


The Inquisition Job

by RogueLioness



Series: The DA Alternate Universe Chronicles [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cullenlingus, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Minor NPCs present, Misunderstandings and overcoming them, some nsfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:33:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 64,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Elise Delacourt is good at what she does - which is why she’s contacted by Leliana herself, contracted to assist the Inquisition’s efforts in hunting down the terrorist group who call themselves the Venatori.Her new job has her working with Commander Cullen Rutherford, an ex-templar who’s trying to atone for his troubled past. But Elise has secrets of her own, too - secrets that the rogue hacker thedreadwolf might just use for his own unexplained, nefarious purposes. Can Cullen and Elise come out of the Inquisition job in one piece?
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The DA Alternate Universe Chronicles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2036974
Comments: 170
Kudos: 82





	1. Quelqu'n m'a dit

She unloads the last of her groceries from her little sporty hatchback, double checking to make sure the garage door is fully closed and properly locked. It takes a few minutes to put everything away - the tub of cookie dough ice cream went first - before she debates over her dinner choices. She’s a fairly decent cook, but she’s feeling too lazy to want to spend time prepping. Not eating isn’t an option - her stomach’s already rumbling - so she throws a frozen meal into the microwave. 

The tortellini’s stuffing is still cold, and the sauce is too runny, but she’s too distracted by the news on her laptop to really care. Every bit of information that’s trickling in is various shades of _bad_. 

Someone’s blown up the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

There are no survivors.

It hasn’t made the news yet, but it’s only a matter of time. Elise has made contacts over her several years of freelancing, and they’ve always come in handy. She examines the grainy cellphone footage, trying to garner clues, but it’s all the same - diplomats walking into the Temple, chatting distractedly, a small flash of light followed by a massive explosion. The dust raised blinds the camera, and when it settles all that’s left of the grand building is rubble.

It’s terrifying, if she’s being honest with herself. She’s experienced with weapons, but she’s never encountered anything that could create _this_ level of devastation.

Every report she reads agrees with her. No one seems to know what caused it, but it’s got a lot of people spooked. Accusations are slowly building, and Elise knows it’s only a matter of time before they’re thrown around.

And accusations, baseless or not, can do a great deal of damage. 

She shovels the last piece of pasta into her mouth, and leans back as she chews. She’s not a betting woman - she likes her risks carefully calculated - but she’s willing to wager her life savings that Tevinter is somehow involved. They were, after all, the only country that declined to participate in the Conclave - not including Par Vollen of course, but the Qunari were a different matter entirely - though she hasn’t been able to figure out their reasons for doing so. The peace summit would’ve benefitted all of Thedas, especially after the shit that went down in Kirkwall, and the White Spire…

She sighs, and sets about clearing away the small table she uses for meals. It’s an old one, with a myriad of scratches and scorches, but they only add character. Her little townhouse is, for the most part, spartan - she’s not really home often enough to justify spending huge sums of money on decorating. Even her bedroom is pretty minimal - she’s splurged on one of those fancy adjustable mattresses, but that’s the most expensive thing there.

There’s only one room that’s the exception, and that’s her office. Elise has a large cup of coffee in her hand as she enters the room, and she’s careful as she maneuvers her way around the many pieces of electronic equipment that lie around. They’re all vital for the work she does, and she’s spared no expense making sure she has the very best of the best. She places the mug on the little heater that she’d received from the new mayor of Crestwood - through an intermediary, of course. It had been rather nasty business, but she’d been able to prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the previous mayor had deliberately flooded the old town all those years ago. Trekking through all that muck and sludge and rotting corpses had been beyond torturous, but the pay had been good - as had the satisfaction of a job well done.

She checks her messages, slightly surprised to see the empty inbox. She’d expected to hear from Leliana. Gnawing on her lip, she wonders if she should call her old friend. Elise knows that the Inquisition’s _maître_ _espionne_ is alive, and likely busy. Though she’s still worried, she decides to wait. She’ll be contacted, sooner or later. It’s possible the Inquisition will want her help - what happened at the Conclave is far too serious to be ignored, and she’s good at what she does. She _likes_ what she does. It had been one of the reasons she’d been unable to fit into regular civilian life. Routine isn’t her thing; she’s been one for adventure, always has.

Her phone beeps from somewhere in the room, but she ignores it. Sure enough, a new window opens up, with a chat request. She checks the origin of the message - it’s encrypted, of course, but nothing that her sophisticated rig can’t handle.

The location is pinged to Haven. She frowns. Isn’t that- she checks the map of Thedas up on her wall- yes, it is. The small town that lead to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. Which could only mean-

She accepts the chat request.

> RBN: Line’s secure. Go ahead.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Birds of a feather-

Elise exhales heavily as she ponders the phrase. She’d suspected, but now she knows.

> RBN: -flock together. Off season for nightingales?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: A cold wind blows south.
> 
> RBN: And the skies are-
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Stormy.

Well. Shit must be _really_ bad if the infamous Left Hand of the Divine goes straight to business. 

> RBN: Switching to a red line.

She rapidly types in a set of commands, and three of the yellow lights on the console turn red. She frowns. Something’s wrong. Someone seems to be- is someone actually attempting to hack into her system??

She pulls up her firewall defense program, and chuckles. Yep, someone’s actually stupid enough to try and get into her system. Clearly not Leliana - the woman’s smart enough to guess at how Elise operates, and wouldn’t be a fan of making her servers vulnerable. Which means it’s probably someone in the Nightingale’s employ. Elise hums as she scans the screen, the program she’s running doing what it’s meant to do. It takes only a short time before she’s into her attacker’s system, trying to pin down a username.

_Gotcha._

It’s a good attempt, but she’s seen better. A few keystrokes, and she’s remotely shut down the infiltration program that’s trying to enter her system, and bans the user from accessing it. Another twenty seconds or so, and the last two lights turn red.

> RBN: We’re on a red line.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Good.
> 
> RBN: What’s the sitch?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Bad. You know about the Conclave?
> 
> RBN: Heard some whispers.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Then you can understand the urgency.
> 
> RBN: I can. How are you coping?

There was a long pause.

> HVN ADMIN: I’m furious. And devastated. Justinia was a good woman. She had her enemies, but to do such a thing is inconceivable. 
> 
> RBN: I’m sorry. I know the two of you were close.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: I will feel better once we eliminate the people behind the attack. 
> 
> RBN: ...Not sure where I fit in.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: The Inquisition needs your help.
> 
> RBN: I’m listening.

_HVN ADMIN has shared <file TheThreatSoFar>. Accept?_

Elise scans the file. She knows, from experience, that a lot of government agencies tend to have unwelcome interlopers in their systems - and she’s right. Hidden deep in the code - so deep she can see why Leliana missed it - is something that’s not meant to be there.

<thedreadwolf:trailtag>

She scrubs the malware before she opens it, making a mental note to inform Leliana she’s got a leak in her system. Her eyes move rapidly from side to side as she goes over the data that she’s been provided. It’s- certainly provocative, and she can’t help but wonder if Leliana’s lost it.

> RBN: This is… you’re sure of this?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Yes.
> 
> RBN: The Venatori - they’re the same Tevinter supremacists I ran into a few months ago?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Very likely.
> 
> RBN: I’m surprised they’re involved. I suspected that they had a few agents in the Free Marches and Orlais, but if what your report says is true the situation is a lot worse than I thought. But I’m more concerned about the Orb. Isn’t that just a myth?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: On the contrary. It’s real.

Elise’s lips twist sideways into a moue of disbelief. She’s heard of the Orb - many people have - but it’s one of those things whose existence only conspiracy theorists debate about. It’s hard to believe that it _actually_ exists - an artifact that, when decoded, provided remote arming codes for several missiles that were purported to be scattered across Thedas. It sounds like something straight out of one of Varric Tethras’ pre-apocalyptic fiction novels. And now, one of the best spymasters in all Thedas was telling her it was _true_?

> RBN: You’ve got to be kidding. Right?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: It’s very true. The orb exists. And it’s in the hands of a terrorist.
> 
> RBN: The Venatori leader, I assume.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: He calls himself Corypheus. Whatever he and this cult of his have planned, it cannot be good. We need to stop him.
> 
> RBN: This sounds like a big fucking mess, Nightingale. Makes more sense to contact governments, form a multi-agency task force. You need the manpower.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: We need discretion. The Inquisition has manpower, and the potential to obtain more. If this attack has shown us anything, it is that the Venatori have infiltrated at multiple levels, across multiple countries. Any agency we use will be prone to leaks, and we can ill afford those. Individual operatives - such as yourself - are the only feasible option.
> 
> RBN: Assuming I was to accept the job, what would it entail?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: You’ll be tasked with infiltrating the Venatori. Uncover Corypheus’ network. Identify his agents, and eliminate them.

She takes a large sip from her cup, wincing at the taste of slightly-burned coffee. The warmth is welcome, though. The spacer blinks in the message box, waiting for her to type in her reply. She drums her fingers on the table, runs her free hand through her hair. This isn’t going to be an easy task, she knows. It’s possibly the toughest job she’s been offered - and certainly the most dangerous.

She finds her attention drawn by the red lights. They’re all static, save one, which is merrily blinking away. Eyes narrowing, she investigates. _Son of a-_ someone’s trying to access her system. _Again_!

Well, they’re just going to have to deal with the consequences of their stupidity.

She accesses their system - a Genitivi brand laptop, how charming - and enters their communication hub. She brings her microphone - with the voice scrambler, of course - closer, and the irritation she feels is clear in her tone as she barks, “Tell your man _lionheart_ to back off. I know everything about my system. If he isn’t out in five seconds, I’m going to crash your servers _real_ bad.” There’s a spark of amusement at the startled sound Leliana’s employee makes, and Elise wonders just how experienced this _lionheart_ is. She’s still annoyed by the lack of etiquette - _they_ want to hire _her_ , and they’re trying to get into her system? Who do they think they are? To prove her threat isn’t idle - and to have a bit of fun - she floods this _lionheart’s_ system with images.

Of graphic porn.

She grins at the distinctly uncomfortable _What in the Maker’s name_ and the string of rather mild curses. _Lionheart_ seems to be a male, judging by the voice, though she can’t tell for certain - voice modulators are used so frequently in her line of work. Still, it’s a lovely voice - deep, thick like syrup, with a hint of a growl. It’s the kind of voice that, in the right setting, would be incredibly pleasurable - but she tamps down that line of thought before it can fully settle in.

Leliana’s long-suffering sigh helps to bring her back to the matter at hand. There’s a muffled conversation, and though Elise can’t make out any of the words, it’s clear that the spymaster isn’t happy with lionheart.

> HVN ADMIN: I apologize for that. The Commander isn’t comfortable with asking for outside help from, as he puts it, ‘unknown sources’. He’s backing off.

The Commander? She’s surprised that the head of the Inquisition’s forces is so personally vested in this. It takes a minute or two of racking her brain before she comes up with a name - Cullen Rutherford. Elise waits until the blinking light turns static once more before relinquishing control of the Commander’s system. A quick search informs her that he was present in Kirkwall when the Knight-Commander went insane. And before that, he was in- Kinloch.

She groans internally. It couldn’t be a coincidence that the man had been present at two of the worst political incidents in recent history, could it? And now he was involved in- in whatever this crappy mess was. Either the man had extraordinary bad luck, or-

A _ping_ told her that there was a new message.

> HVN ADMIN: So, what do you say?
> 
> RBN: It’s not an easy task you’ve set, Nightingale.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Robin, you know I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t think you were capable of it. Please. You’re one of the few people I trust.

Elise sighs. Leliana’s definitely desperate - she’s never resorted to this level of emotional blackmail before.

> RBN: It isn’t going to be cheap.

It’s true. Between the supplies she’ll require, the travel and lodging, and the equipment she’s going to need to have made - not to mention her personal fee - it’s going to cost the Inquisition a pretty penny.

> HVN ADMIN: Money’s no issue.

She mulls it over. On one hand, this is definitely a risk. There’s no way she’s going to come out of this without any scratches, and there’s a good chance she might not walk out of it alive. On the other hand… there was the matter of the Orb. From the information Leliana’s sent, the artifact is all-too-terrifyingly real. And in the hands of a cult like the Venatori - the threat is immense. Can she, in good conscience, afford to ignore it?

Hasn’t she always tried to do the right thing? 

> RBN: What’s the plan?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: We need to meet, to discuss the next steps. There are a few people I want to introduce you to. 
> 
> RBN: Is it necessary?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Since we will not be working together directly, yes. It’s unfortunate, but necessary. I will personally guarantee that your identity will be kept secret.

She’s not happy about it - she can count on the fingers of one hand just how many people know her real identity - but she trusts Leliana. They’ve had their squabbles, but Leliana would never do anything to jeopardize Elise’s desire to remain incognito.

So why does it make her feel so uncomfortable? 

Probably because she’s used to working solo, and this operation sounds like it’s going to have multiple hands on deck. She rolls her shoulders before she responds.

> RBN: When and where?
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Haven, Monday, 1400 hours. There’s a small building next to the Tavern. If I’m not there myself, tell someone you want to purchase some nugs.

Elise notes it down, and searches for flights. Val Falaise is a small airport, with few commercial flights - as one would expect from a small town. She’s going to have to fly out from Val Chevin. And since Haven doesn’t have an airport at all, she’ll have to fly into Redcliffe, then drive up the mountains.

It’s a few minutes before she finalizes her itinerary. She’s going to be using aliases the entire time, of course, but all of her documents are such excellent forgeries that they’re indistinguishable from the real deal.

It’s what she pays for, after all.

> RBN: Expect Ms. Laura Vidal in Haven on Monday.
> 
> HVN ADMIN: Noted. Please inform Ms. Vidal I look forward to meeting her.

She disconnects, and leans back in her chair, blankly contemplating the speckled texture on the ceiling.

What has she gotten herself into?


	2. Take the ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise gets some unexpected news when she arrives at Haven.

The road to Haven has more traffic than she’d expected. She counts a few sedans, a couple ambulances, and to her surprise, truck buses. It seems that the Inquisition does have plenty of manpower, though Elise wonders as to just why they’d need an army.

She parks her rental in the makeshift parking lot by the lake, and takes a few moments to enjoy the view. It’s cold up here, so cold that the water’s almost completely frozen over. She wraps her scarf tighter, shoving her hands into the pockets of her winter coat. It doesn’t do much - and the wind’s picking up - so she hurriedly makes her way to the village gates.

The village of Haven is protected by the historical societies of both Ferelden and Orlais. It’s an old village, well-maintained, and very quaint. Elise imagines that the village lives up to its name when it’s less populated - right now there seems to be a great deal of bustling around. At 5’4, it’s easy enough for her to blend in with the crowd, and she does a quick tour of the village for her own benefit. There are many members of the nobility, which doesn’t surprise her, as well as representatives from the Grand Cathedral - they’ve all congregated in the little Chantry, and the noise is- not deafening, but it’s loud enough that she wonders if anyone’s able to hold a proper conversation.

There’s an apothecary here, upgraded to a hospital, and contrary to the chaos of the Chantry the area around it is very quiet. A man walks out of the building, his shoulders slumped and his eyes reddened, and stares around blankly before stumbling in the direction of the tavern.

The tavern’s one of the larger buildings around. Elise can hear music as she passes by - she’s sure she’s heard the band before. It sounds like- Maryden? Curiosity piqued, she pops her head around the door to take a look - yes, there’s Maryden with her famous lute, and her partner Cole playing backup. She listens to the gentle tune of  _ Once We Were _ , her foot tapping to the music.

Someone thumps a glass against the table, and catches her attention. It’s a grizzly old dwarf, his salt and pepper hair blending into his bushy beard. “Come in, or stay out,” he grumbles in his gruff voice, “but for the love of the Maker, shut the door! You’re letting the cold air in.”

She flushes, and with an apology, slides from the doorway, closing the door behind her. The building ahead is, as Leliana had mentioned, small, and very drab-looking. Unlike the warm brown stone that makes up the other buildings, this one is made of grey brick, and has no windows at all. It was not eye-catching in any way - it looked, for all intents and purposes, like a mere storage space.

Which is probably why Leliana had chosen it as her base of operations.

Elise tucks herself away in a spot by the Chantry doors, next to some Sisters who were busy gossiping about - her ears prick up, and she has to stifle a laugh. They’re talking about bedding the Iron Bull, and from the sounds of it they’re both very happy about it. She wonders if she’ll run into him. It’s been many years since she last saw him - they’d worked together to bust that saar-qamek smuggling ring - and she thinks it would be lovely to catch up.

She spends some time observing the area around the  _ services de reseignement _ . She knows better than to blindly walk in - and sure enough, she spots two hooded figures keeping watch. They look like any other inhabitant, but their eyes are too sharp. She waits for a lull in their routine, draws her little beaten up purse closer to her, and makes her way to the dull taupe door of the building, slipping in at exactly 1.55. The inside is just one long beige corridor, with two doors on either side, and there’s a guard in dress uniform behind a desk by the entrance.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asks.

“Laura Vidal. I’m here to purchase some nugs?”

His eyes twinkle with suppressed laughter. “Head straight down. Just knock twice on the door.” The guard's response has her nearly - nearly! - convinced that Leliana is  _ actually _ running an honest-to-goodness nug breeding business, and the idea of her has her giggling as she makes her way down the passage.

Elise makes out  _ Lace Harding  _ and  _ Knight Captain Rylen _ , and as she gets closer to the end of the corridor, there’s  _ Cassandra Pentaghast _ and  _ Cullen Rutherford _ . All important people to the Inquisition, then, and ones that Leliana trusts. She finds herself relaxing marginally. She waits for her watch to show 2.00, and then knocks on the only unmarked door.

“Come in.” Leliana’s voice is as melodious ever, her accent making the words almost musical.

She walks in with a grin. The spymaster’s eyebrows rise. “You went with that shade of brown? Please tell me it’s not a dye job.”

Elise smoothes a hand through the wig, working out some of the kinks. “Of course not. It’s a wig.”

“Good. That color makes you look sallow.” 

“Which is why I chose it in the first place.” She moves towards Leliana, and the two women embrace. “It’s been too long,  _ mon ami _ .”

“It has.” Her friend gestures towards a chair, and Elise sits, taking the opportunity to look around. The room is - well, there are tables with books and scattered documents on top, and computers, and large screens with maps and assorted data, and many blinking lights, and there’s the sound of muted conversation and static - but she can tell it’s all for show. Everything is meant to convey a sense of urgency, to bolster a feeling of  _ we have everything under control _ , but this isn’t Leliana’s  _ actual _ office.

“Nice room,” she quips, and Leliana laughs.

“It is,  _ non _ ? I find that it does a good job at convincing visitors.”

“So.” She crosses her legs. “You wanted to meet?”

“There’s something you should know, and I wanted to tell you personally.” Leliana rests against the desk, her thigh brushing Elise’s knee. She’s somber as she continues, “There was a survivor in the explosion.”

Elise’s heart starts to beat faster, but she stays silent, waiting for Leliana to finish.

“Jillian Trevelyan.”

It’s hard to think for a moment, harder still to keep her face blank. Of all the people in the world- “Well, fuck,” she mutters, giving up on her attempt to remain stoic. She knows Leliana won’t judge. “Her father giving you any trouble?”

“ _ Merde _ , he’s been breathing down the back of our necks,” Leliana looks tired. “Nothing but an endless stream of demands. He wants us to hunt down the Venatori, he wants us to put all our resources towards protecting his daughter, he wants us to keep him constantly updated- if Jillian had not told him to back off, Cassandra would’ve had some very rude words for him.”

“ _ Jillian _ told him off?”

“She wants to help. Insists on it, as a matter of fact. And she’s good at dealing with her father.”

Elise shifts in her seat. “I’ve heard good things about her.”

“She’s an excellent diplomat. Our ambassador, Josephine Montilyet, has been ecstatic. Jillian’s doing wonders as far as publicity is concerned. But as for other matters-”

“She’s got no experience.” Leliana nods. There’s a brief silence before Elise voices the question that’s been on her mind. “Does she know?”

“No. And she won’t, unless you want to tell her yourself.”

She releases the breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. “Does anyone else know that we’re related?”

“Certainly not. You know your secrets are safe with me.”

“Good. It’s best we keep it that way, don’t you think?”

Leliana says nothing, only tilts her head to the side.

“Well.” She checks her watch. “That can’t be the only thing you wanted to talk about-”

The door opens, and Elise turns to look at the newcomer. He’s- he’s definitely a sight for sore eyes. Muscular, broad shouldered, tall. His blond hair has a tendency towards unruly curls, if that errant lock that’s falling into his eye is any indication. He grunts irritatedly as he pushes it back into place, and Elise takes note of the little white scar that marks his upper lip. And nice lips, too, very full and plush, even if they’re chapped. 

He clears his throat. His eyes are the color of the good scotch she prefers, and are alight with frustration.

“You’re late, Commander.”

“My apologies.” Elise is taken aback - his voice is exactly the same as what it was when they’d had their little digital scuffle. “Chancellor Roderick refuses to be anything other than a pest. Can’t we just send him away?”

“He’s harmless. Maybe you should refrain from antagonizing him.”

The Commander of the Inquisition huffs. “He’s certainly got quite the mouth on him.”

Leliana sighs. “Introductions, first. Commander, this is a longtime associate, Laura Vidal. She’s one of the best agents I know. Ms. Vidal, allow me to introduce you to Commander Cullen Rutherford, head of the Inquisition’s forces.”

“A pleasure, Ms. Vidal.” His handshake is firm, but not crushing, and his palm is calloused. Elise finds herself enjoying the pressure.

“Likewise, Commander.”

“Please, call me Cullen. We’re all in this mess together.”

She grins at him, and the one he gives her in response warms her stomach. 

“Let’s get to business, shall we?” Leliana takes out a little remote, and points it at the wall behind her desk. The panels slide open to reveal a door, which the spymaster opens using her biometrics. There’s a flight of stairs that leads underground.

Leliana’s office - her  _ real _ base of operations - is impressive. Elise admires many of the equipment there, taking stock of ones she’d like for her own office. There’s footage not only from around Haven, but other places as well. Elise recognizes Redcliffe Village, Redcliffe Castle, and- she peers closer, and blinks. 

“Is that  _ the royal palace _ ? How the  _ hell _ did you manage to get cameras into the royal fucking palace?”

Leliana laughs. “I didn’t. We tapped into their security footage. There are rumors that the Venatori have infiltrated the palace, and we need to make sure the King and Queen are safe.”

Elise shakes her head. “That’s impressive. How did you manage that?”

“I should introduce you to him - his name is Solas Rhenalfe. He’s a- well, to keep it simple, he’s a hacker. He volunteered his services to the Inquisition.”

“And you trust him? Isn’t it strange that he just-  _ volunteered _ ?”

“I thought so too. I ran extensive background checks, and they all came up clean. He’s been quite forthright about his background, and he’s been nothing but helpful. As a matter of fact, he’s the one who discovered that the Orb was involved. He managed to restore some data, mainly heat and chemical signatures. None of them match the pattern that regular weapons have. He also managed to partially decrypt some communications between the Venatori that mentioned the Orb.”

“That’s impressive.” It is. She wonders if she could maybe establish Solas as one of her contacts, for the future. He sounds like he’d be a valuable asset.

“Indeed. Now, please, let’s begin. We have much to discuss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure Leliana had a nug business going on during Inquisition. Like.. 80% sure. They were all Schmoople's offspring...


	3. More than meets the eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen's got some thoughts about the newcomer.

**POV Cullen**

Cullen’s listening to the spymaster talk, but his attention is on the stranger. He finds it hard to believe that this- drab, plain-looking, unremarkable woman is the same one who had overwhelmed his laptop with lewd images.

He feels the back of his neck heat up as he remembers the incident. He’d been beyond mortified, and it had taken nothing short of reformatting the entire system to clean everything up.

He looks her over. She’s petite - he’d put her at five foot three, maybe four? - with mousy brown hair that falls just below her shoulders. Her eyes, behind large, owlish black frames, are a murky blue. The blouse and tailored slacks she’s wearing are perfectly serviceable, if a little threadbare, and they seem to hang a little loosely on her frame.

He can’t believe _this_ is who Leliana considered ‘one of the best agents in the business.’ As though she can hear his thoughts, she turns, giving him a half-smile and a quick wink.

He flushes, and turns his attention back to the screen.

"So, as you're already aware, the Temple of Sacred Ashes was completely destroyed in the explosion." Leliana's eyes blaze with a cold fury for a split second. Cullen has a pang of sympathy for the woman; he knows she had been close to Divine Justinia. "We still don't know how the Venatori infiltrated the building-”

“Actually, I’ve done a bit of research,” Elise interjects. “Before Haven was developed into what it is today, there was a cult that existed here. The Cult of Andraste-” Cullen’s aware of the sordid history of this place, and he lends only half an ear, choosing instead to marvel at how focused this Ms. Vidal is. Her eyes are sharp, her voice rises on the bits that it’s clear she finds interesting- “they believed in the rebirth of Andraste as a _dragon_ , of all things-” and her hands are graceful as she gesticulates.

She’s beginning to look, well, _attractive_.

He almost laughs out loud at the ridiculous notion, the only sound escaping him a strange kind of chuckle-cough. “Sorry,” he hates that he’s heating up beneath his collar, but he can’t seem to help it, what with that quizzical look she’s shooting at him, her head half-cocked.

“Get to the point, if you please,” Leliana’s polite, but blunt.

He’s gratified to see her turn a light pink. “Sorry,” she apologizes with a small laugh. “I do get carried away sometimes. Anyway, my point is this - those tunnels beneath Haven are very likely the way the Venatori infiltrated the Temple. I don’t know if your people have examined them, Commander…?”

He can hear the question, and responds accordingly. “No,” he’s brusque, frustrated at himself. He’d known about Haven’s history, but he can’t believe he didn’t put two and two together before. Now this- _expert_ \- has come in, and barely ten minutes into her contract she’s already come up with a great idea. “I’ll send some of my people right away-”

“Actually,” Ms. Vidal stops him, her gaze still on the holographic map on the table, now altered to illuminate the secret tunnels beneath the village. “There’s a very good chance those tunnels are still occupied. No doubt some of the Venatori have remained behind, to keep an eye on the Inquisition. It’ll be a lot quieter if I go myself - I could maybe catch some of them, at the very least recover some data. If you send your men, they’re bound to make a lot of noise, tip the Venatori off.” She grimaces, as though something’s just occurred to her, and shrugs. “No offense meant towards your men.”

He acknowledges her statement with a tilt of his head, his focus more on her suggestion. Cullen thinks it’s a terrible idea. Who in their right mind would send just one person alone to investigate a terrorist group? - but Leliana beats him to the punch. “That’s not a bad idea,” she remarks slowly. “Although I’m not terribly thrilled at the idea of you going by yourself. You’ll have a few other people, no more than four. If you do come across any Venatori, engaging them should be your last option. Understood?”

The brunette sighs. “I got it.” She pulls out a tablet from her purse, and types into it. Cullen’s impressed by the speed with which her fingers move across the small digital keyboard. “What are my priorities?”

“The Venatori. To that end, you’ll be working closely with the Commander here. You bag and tag them, and he’ll recover them. If you come across any damaged equipment you think might be valuable, bring it to me. I’ll make sure Solas takes a look at it.”

“And who am I going to be working with?”

“Agent Ritts and Agent Tanner. New recruits to the Inquisition, but they have prior experience with espionage… like you.”

“And they’re okay with working in a team?”

“Yes. Both have martial experience, and both can be - reasonably - trusted.”

“Alright. When do I meet them?”

“Tomorrow.”

Cullen’s getting agitated, but he knows better than to show it. He wonders, not for the first time, why Leliana wanted his presence. So far, it doesn’t look like he’s needed-

“One last thing,” Leliana presses the remote button, and instantly the lights in the room are restored. Cullen has to blink several times to adjust. “Ms. Vidal, as a - shall we say, _elite_ \- agent, I want no rumors as to your supposed existence. And so, you will not be reporting to me directly. Your contact will be Commander Cullen here.”

He’s flabbergasted, and he’s not sure whether he should be offended or amused to find that Ms. Vidal is equally as taken aback.

“Leliana, are you sure?” it’s the sheer amount of doubt in her voice that sets him off. “I mean no offense to the Commander, but does he even know-”

“I’m perfectly capable of running an operation, Ms. Vidal,” he snaps.

“Oh, I’m sure you have plenty of experience in running military operations, Commander,” he narrows his eyes at the pandering tone she’s using, “but espionage is a whole different ball game-”

“Cullen will serve as an intermediary. You’ll report to him, and he’ll pass them on to me. Since he and I meet regularly, no one will suspect anything out of the ordinary. And, like you said, it’s unlikely that anyone would imagine he has an agent under his command.”

“But what if I need help?”

“Any aid you require will be sent promptly, Ms Vidal,” he doesn’t know why he feels the need to reassure this woman, arrogant as she is, but he does. “I’m sure the two of us could come up with a system in case of emergencies.”

She doesn’t look completely reassured, which bothers him, but she nods. “That could work.”

It feels like the verbal equivalent of a pat on the head, and it makes Cullen bristle. “Unless you think I’m not capable of that?” he’s snippy, and he knows it, but Maker’s breath he is _so_ annoyed with her right now. 

“Huh?”

“You don’t seem to have much confidence in my abilities, Ms. Vidal.” He turns to Leliana. “If she doesn’t trust me, how do you expect us to work together? You’d be better off finding someone else.”

Leliana sighs, and begins to say something- but she’s not given the chance to.

“ _Excuse_ me?” if it weren’t for the ice coating the words, he’d never have even suspected that she was pissed. “Not _once_ did I mention anything about _trust_ . What I do is a whole lot more nuanced than running around with guns shooting at things, Commander. My job is dangerous, and needs precision and accuracy. I know how experienced Leliana is, and I trust her. You, on the other hand, could barely protect your laptop - am I supposed to be inspired by how _knowledgeable_ you are?”

“You had _no right_ to-” he seethes.

“ _You_ started it,” she counters, corner of her lip curled up into a snarl. “I gave you a chance, you chose to be a dumbass!”

“Enough!” Leliana’s sharpness has him biting back what he’d wanted to say. “This situation is bad enough as it is, and the last thing I need is the two of you bickering! You are both adults and I expect you to act like it! You may not like each other, but you _do_ need to work with each other. Can I trust the two of you to do that?”

The brunette breaks eye contact first. “Yes,” she mutters, clearly resentful.

“Of course, Leliana.” He’s contrite. He usually is a lot more in control of himself- plus, the woman did have a point. “And I apologize, Ms. Vidal. You’re entitled to your doubts, though I hope you’ll give me a chance to ease your mind.”

The tension in the brunette’s shoulders eased, and she flashed him a small smile. “I’m sorry, too, Commander. I shouldn’t have been so quick to assume-” she sticks her hand out. “I really am looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes it, and is struck by a couple of things - one, she’s got a stronger grip than he’d imagined, and two, her palms and fingertips are quite calloused. Much like his, actually. 

Which tells him Ms. Vidal’s had some military experience. 

The idea of working with her’s just become a whole lot more interesting.

Leliana has a few more points to share before they wrap up the meeting and the secret door is shut firmly -and quietly - behind them.

“Are you staying in Haven, or…?” he asks.

“Yes, I have a room booked at the Tavern. Room 324.”

“Oh, I was heading there myself. I’ll walk with you, if that’s okay.”

They leave Leliana’s office together, hotly debating over whether the Ferelden Great Bears were better than the Orlesian Wyverns. Cullen reaches out to open the door, but before he can grab the handle it swings open, bumping into his face.

“Oh, Maker, Cullen, I didn’t see you there. Are you all right?” Cassandra’s let go of the door and it slams into the frame, the sound reverberating in the hallway.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he begins to wave her off, but his attention is caught by the way Cassandra’s staring at Laura.

“Elise?” the former Seeker sounds extremely surprised.

Ms. Vidal’s brows are knitted into a frown. She clears her throat. “Sorry, I think you have the wrong person.” She looks at Cullen. “Commander, I just remembered that there are a few phone calls I need to make. Perhaps we can meet later?”

“Of course,” he replies, confused. He waits till she’s gone before turning back to Cassandra. “You know her?” 

The raven haired woman sighs. “She said she-” Cassandra hesitates, still staring at the door. “No, I’m sure it was her.”

“Who is she?”

Cassandra gestures for him to follow, and he does. They end up in Leliana’s office.

“Leliana.” Cassandra sounds- almost _sad_. “I- was that Elise I ran into, in the hallway?”

He doesn’t miss the way Leliana’s eyes dart to him. He can almost see her debating over how much she should divulge. 

The spymaster shrugs. “Yes,” she replies simply.

“Oh.” Cassandra is quiet for several moments. “How- is she-?”

“She’s working for us now, yes.”

“Excuse me,” Cullen’s tired of being left out, tired of cryptic conversations. “Will one of you tell me who she really is?” He stares right at Leliana. “I think I deserve to know who I’m working with.”

Leliana makes a sound of disgust. “And every agent deserves their privacy. I promised I would keep her identity a secret, but I suppose there’s no going back,” she glares at Cassandra, who, to her credit, looks decently chagrined.

“Look, either you tell me, or I ask her myself. You know I can be trusted, Leliana. I’m not going to give her away.”

The two women exchange a look. Leliana rises from her chair in a huff and walks over to a desk by the wall, inputting some commands into the console there. Cassandra drums her fingers on the table - Cullen’s never seen her fidget so much. It’s… disconcerting.

“Elise was- she was a Seeker, once,” Cassandra’s voice is low. “She had a very good record in the Templars before she was invited to join. One of the youngest candidates, and certainly one of the best. I- I trained her, when she was in the Academy. I was her mentor, once she graduated.”

“What happened?” He prods, when she fell silent. 

“You know how Lord Seeker Lambert nearly assassinated the Divine?” Leliana places a hand on Cassandra’s shoulder, gives it a little squeeze. “Elise suspected the corruption in the Seeker Order much before the… the events of the White Spire.” 

Cullen’s heard of the White Spire. His jaw clenches. It’s often compared to what happened in Kirkwall - the events that showed all of Thedas just how corrupt the two law enforcement agencies were, and the reason for the Conclave. 

“She came to me with her suspicions,” Cassandra continues. “Showed me the discrepancies in the stocktaking, that some reports were missing entirely. I- I didn’t listen to her. I think I did not want to believe her. I ignored her concerns, and I-” She fumbles, trying to explain. “The people that she accused were known to be good men. Lord Seeker Lambert had a clean record and exceptional service. I told her she was mistaken.” The Seeker’s shoulders droop.

“By then, the Lord Seeker was aware of Elise’s… investigations, and began to make her life very difficult. She was written up for trivial matters, and eventually demoted.”

“Elise lost faith in the Seekers entirely,” Leliana picks up the tale. “She quit, and sent me the proof that she had. It was because of her warning that the Divine’s assassination in the Spire was prevented.” 

“She helped stop Lord Seeker Lambert’s coup, but she never gave me a chance to apologize,” Cassandra’s more than a little forlorn. “I was her mentor. I knew her. I knew she was trustworthy, but.. When it mattered the most, I did not believe her. I failed her.”

Cullen’s silent as he tries to process this new information. Elise is… the opposite of him, apparently. Where he blundered along with blinders as far as his superiors were concerned, she picked up on deviations and tried to fix them.

He wonders if she knows about his past in Kirkwall. Would she scorn him for his inaction?

He lets his breath out all at once. “How did she end up from a Seeker to… this?”

“Elise always favored a stealthy approach,” Cassandra’s voice holds pride. “It was what she excelled at while in the Seekers.”

Leliana’s gaze as she looks at him is inscrutable. He doesn’t know what’s going through her mind. It’s disconcerting. “People like us, Commander, can’t go back to routine. It’s too mundane. Elise is no different. She does the same thing now, as she did in the past - just as a freelancer.”

“Huh.” That explains the calluses. And the confidence. Only the exceptional were accepted into the Seekers. 

“I expect the two of you to keep her identity to yourself,” Leliana’s voice is colder than ice. She’s resting against her table with her hands crossed. Everything about her demeanor screams _danger_. “I will not have her compromised because of loose lips. Is that understood?”

Cassandra looks upset, but nods. “You know I would not-”

“You _just_ slipped, Cassandra. It cannot happen again.”

“Fair enough. I swear it will not happen again,, Leliana.”

Leliana shifts her focus to him. “And you, Commander? I trust you will keep this information to yourself?” 

There’s an implicit threat of _or else_. Cullen briefly wonders just how far the spymaster will go to protect this Elise- but he shrugs it off. “It doesn’t leave this room. You have my word.”

The spymaster exhales; Cullen’s surprised to see her shoulders droop. “Thank you,” there’s a note of relief there. “She’s aiding us as a favor to me. I- I would not want her trust betrayed.”

“That’s understandable.”

He thinks of this Ms. Vidal as he walks back to his office. How much of what he’s seen of her _real?_ How many veils does she wear? Would she ever trust him enough to see beneath the cover?

He frowns. Why does it matter to him? She’s an employee, just like the many others in the Inquisition’s service. She isn’t anything special.

Except Cullen knows that’s a lie. There’s something about Ms. Vidal - _Elise_ \- something that makes his stomach flutter each time he thinks about the way she smiles at him.

This is going to be entertaining...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, those two dorks are going to get along like a lit match and dry tinder :D


	4. Renegades in the ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise sets off on her first mission for the Inquisition.

The tunnels look ancient, despite being very obviously man made. There’s an air draft coming in from someplace, bringing with it the chill from the mountains, and Elise shivers yet again. The woman beside her grunts beneath her breath.

“Tanner, how’re you holding up?”

Tanner’s a Denerim transplant, and despite having lived in Redcliffe for several years it’s clear that she’s no fan of the cold. “This is the shittiest fucking place I’ve ever been in. And I once spent a day hiking out of the Denerim sewers, so that’s saying something.” 

Through the headset is the sound of Ritts’ chuckle. The elven woman, despite her lean stature, is made of sturdier stuff. She’s even opted out of the thermal boots both Elise and Tanner are wearing, choosing instead to sport footwraps that muffle her already-quiet footsteps.

Elise has always considered herself to be fairly stealthy, but she has to admit that Ritts is on the next level.

The further they go into the tunnels, the deeper they seem to be getting into the mountains, and the colder it gets, even with their top-of-the-line thermal wear. They’re at a point where she’s legitimately concerned about hypothermia. Dagna’s newest invention should keep heat sensors from picking up their thermal signature, so she isn’t overly concerned about being detected, but Elise wonders how the Venatori are coping with the temperatures. Maybe she was wrong about them still occupying these tunnels. The temperatures are certainly not habitable.

There’s a crackle in her headset for a split second before the Commander’s voice enters her ear. “Status update?”

“Nothing to report. No sign of intruders so far.”

He sighs, and she can detect the concern in it. There’s something warming about that, and she smiles to herself. “Noted. Is it mealtime yet?”

That’s the code for  _ do you need assistance _ , but right now all it makes her think of is a hot chicken dinner, gravy and mashed potatoes on the side. Her stomach rumbles in protest. “All stomachs full here, Chief.”

He clears his throat. “Don’t call me chief.” There’s more than a little irritation in the words.

“Roger that, commander in chief.”

He grumbles, and the headset falls silent.

“That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, prodding the Commander like that,” Ritts jokes. “Aren’t you worried he’ll put you on fatigues?”

Her fellow agents believe she’s one of the Commander’s former associates. It’s a good way to cover up her actual identity.

“Ahh, he can afford to loosen up a bit,” Tanner remarks. “Wouldn’t mind him loosening up those pants of his, I’d love to see what he’s packing. Something tells me it’s quite the missile.”

Elise laughs, letting out an accidental snort. “Oh, he seems the type to carry a machine gun but have it set to single fire, if you know what I mean.”

The women laugh.

“ **I can** **_hear you_ ** _ ,  _ you know!” The Commander hisses out, his irritation and embarrassment clear.

“That’s what you get if you eavesdrop on people, Commander!” Elise giggles.

“I’m not- this is- you- just-” he sputters. “Maker’s breath, where did I agree to this?”

She can’t help laughing at his discomfort, though she knows it’s a tad mean - but judging by the chuckles coming over through the headset, she’s not the only one who finds it humorous.

“Just get on with it,” he sighs, defeated.

Elise feels bad. She’s not a bully, but there’s something about Cullen that practically invites teasing. Still, she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, and it’s clear that their ribbing, no matter how good-natured, is doing just that. “Hey, I’m sorry if we made you uncomfortable. I’ll stop, okay?”

The silence is drawn out, and makes her feel squirmy. “That’s fine. Thank you.” She relaxes immediately.

It’s more than two hours since they first started, but Elise is starting to notice something is up. And she’s not the only one.

“Is it just me, or is is getting warmer?” Ritts scans the area in front of her with a scanner. “Nope, not just me. Scanner’s picking up a twenty degree rise in temperature.”

She exchanges a look with Tanner. “Lava flow, you think?”

Tanner shakes her head. “I checked the geology logs. No active flows anywhere close to this area.”

“Found the source,” Ritts calls out. When Elise joins her, she spots it too - it’s a portable heater.

“Huh.” She drops to her haunches and examines it closely. “Archon brand. That’s a Tevinter model if ever I saw one.”

“We’re getting closer,” Tanner remarks. The former smuggler-turned-spy is busy taking pictures. “Wonder how they’re powering this thing.”

They get their answer a metres ahead. There’s the thrum of a generator - the sound, already loud given the silence of the surrounding area, is far louder thanks to the echo. 

“Footsteps!” Elise hisses out a warning. On cue, the three duck behind several large stalagmites.

“-it’s only a matter of time. We need to leave,” a stranger’s voice, thick with the Tevinter accent, can be heard over the din of the generator.

“We stay until Calpernia tells us otherwise.” The second voice is higher pitched, clearly female.

“Alexius is a fool, Lillian. He’s having trouble in Redcliffe, he must have forgotten to pass on Calpernia’s orders - you know he’s capable of doing this-”

“Enough, Caldrius! We stay. That’s the end of it.”

Elise’s headset crackles. “What’s the plan?” It’s Tanner, who’s already got her pistol out and is screwing the silencer in.

She pulls out her own modified pistol. “Take them down. Nonlethal. Leliana will have questions.”

Her fellow agents nod, and take aim. Several minutes later, the two - Lillian and Caldrius - are securely trussed up and hidden out of sight, tagged with the radio signal Cullen’s provided them. Elise searches through their pockets, bags their cellphones and the two-way radio that the female has on her.

“Cullen?”

A familiar crackle. “Yes?”

“Just a quick update.. We’ve found two Venatori agents. They’re taken care of, but there’s going to be more ahead. Might be a good time to start sending your boys down, it’s a long hike. The path’s been cleared, they shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Copy that. Be careful.”

She wants to tease him, but she knows now is not the time. Besides, it’s… it’s quite nice, to have someone tell her to be careful. 

It’s been a while since she had that.

“Will do.” 

There are a few more Venatori - easily dealt with - before they stumble into the actual base. It’s located in a large open area, a dead end of sorts. There’s a smaller tunnel - newly made, Elise suspects, judging by the size, and the fact that there’s a small biplane resting in it. The whole place is buzzing with activity, and swarming with armed guards. 

“Holy shit,” Ritts mutters. “Is that a fecking lab?”

Judging by the white coats moving around the room, it seems to be. Why do the Venatori have a lab here? What exactly are they researching within?

“Thoughts, Tanner?” she asks.

“I’ve seen those kind of modular labs before,” Tanner begins slowly. “A lot of drug dealers use ‘em, makes it easier for them to manufacture product. Since they’re easy to move, makes it less likely they’ll be caught.”

“Drugs?” Elise is stunned. “What the  _ fuck _ are the Venatori up to?”

“Nothing good, that much is certain.” Ritts inches closer for a better look. “Alright, I spot maybe ten guards. Eight civilians, three in the lab, might be more in the camper containers. It’s not going to be easy to take ‘em all out.”

Elise looks around, a frown on her face. This operation is too large, too established, for just the three of them to dismantle - and silently at that. She debates their next course of action when she spots it - the multiple antennae around the space. They’re clearly there to boost signal, and taking them out will cut communications. 

“We have to take down their comms,” she whispers, indicating the antennae.

“Stop them from alerting the other bases,” Ritts grins widely, having caught on. 

“How do you want to do it?” Tanner’s still scanning the guards. “I don’t think explosives are a good idea.”

“Scramblers,” Elise explains. “Fuzzes up their signal so that nothing gets in or out. And look, if we get some of those guard uniforms, we can move around without alerting them.”

“Confuse them long enough for the Commander’s men to get here,” Tanner nods approvingly. “Good idea.”

She contacts Cullen. “Commander. We’ve located the Venatori base. There are armed guards around, about a dozen that I can see. There’s a lab here too - Tanner suspects drugs. We’re going to try and take down their communications. Do you have any further instructions?”

His voice is low, and has more of a growl than usual. It sends a shiver down her spine, in the _good_ way. “Negative. Continue with your plan. My men should reach your location in about an hour.”

“Copy that, Commander. Going off contact now.” She reaches up to her earpiece and slides the switch to ‘silent’.

The Venatori guards wear a black and silver uniform, with accents of red. A few of them carry Uzis, though most of them seem to have Bartolis in their holsters. There’s no pattern to their movements, and Elise finally gets a break when one of them moves to a quiet corner and lights up a cigarette. She’s got her fiber wire out - she’s not taking any chances with him. Once he’s dead, she quickly and efficiently strips him, then dumps his body into a nearby garbage can.

The uniform’s a bit snug across her chest, but she expected it to be - pitfalls of stealing something from a man, after all. She desperately wants to contact Cullen and ask for a status update on his men, but she’s worried that the Venatori radio might listen in.

Can’t take that chance. All she can do is hope for the best.

She counts her ammo. Between what she’s carrying and what she’s pilfered from the guard, it’s enough to buy them a few minutes, should they find themselves in the worst case scenario. 

_ Best avoid that _ , she thinks to herself. Digging through her pack, she pulls out what she’s been looking for - the scrambler. It’s another genius invention of Dagna’s, about the size of her fingertip, and designed to look like a spider. All she has to do is place it near the antenna, and it’s  _ au revoir _ to their radio signal.

It takes a minute or two before she finds an easy way to slip out of the corner. There’s a guard at the far end who gives her a brief nod, which she returns, before he goes back to staring at the screen of his cellphone. She meanders around the location, noting a mess quarters, storage space, and the port-a-potties. It’s clear they’ve been around for a while - even before the Conclave, she reckons. The people around move around like they’re following a routine. There’s friendly banter and easy camaraderie, crude jokes about the Inquisition, gossip about their superiors. Elise takes note of any names mentioned - not just to pass on to Leliana, but for her own use as well. 

It’s a laughably simple matter to press the scrambler onto the mini tower holding up the antenna - none of the people nearby pay her any attention as she walks by them, the cowl of the uniform carefully drawn up to hide her face. She breathes easier as she puts some distance between her and them. Elise circles around again, keeping up the guard pretense. She passes Ritts, whose pointed elven ears are tucked away into the woolen cap everyone’s wearing. The agent signals, with her eyes, that she’s taken care of the antenna on their right. Elise nods. Tanner’s by the modular lab, leaning against the stone wall, ankles crossed. She flicks her lit cigarette three times - Elise understands. Counting to five in her head, she uses her phone to trigger the scrambler. 

Sounds of confusion from inside the lab - as well as the other rooms - tell her they’ve been successful. As the Venatori rush out into the open, she uses the chaos to slip away, rejoining the others by the biplane. Ritts is already working on it, tampering with the wheels, while Tanner’s keeping watch. Elise places a GPS tracker by the nose. Should Ritts’ efforts fail - which is highly unlikely - the tracker will at least let them know the plane’s location and eventual destination.

By the time they get back - not more than a few minutes - the chaos has given way to a great deal of grumbling. No one seems to be alarmed, believing the communication outage to be the result of a sudden blizzard on the surface. Elise debates on whether or not she should try to get into the mobile lab, abandoning the idea when she sees that they’re using biometric sensors for entry.

It’s about a half hour later when Cullen’s soldiers arrive, catching the Venatori by surprise. While they engaged the guards in combat, Elise, Ritts and Tanner cut power to the comm. center and the mobile lab, ensuring that no data could be deleted.

But what they hadn’t expected - what she’s not prepared for - is the reaction of the Venatori. Instead of surrendering, as has always been the case in her prior experience - they choose death instead. Soon, none of the Venatori are alive, their bodies twitching in the aftershocks of whatever poison they’d ingested, froth pouring out of their mouths.

She shudders. The Venatori are more than a terrorist group. They’re a fucking cult.

This... is not good. This is  _ so _ not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this chapter I kinda wished it was an actual in-game quest, haha.


	5. Sous les voiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Elise open up to each other.

Elise finds herself staring blankly at a wall. There’s so much to process - both from the reports Leliana has sent her, as well as her own research. 

She clambers out of bed, heads into the en-suite bathroom. Her current accommodations are bigger than her room at the Singing Maiden - which she appreciates. It means a bigger workspace, plus she can get some of her own equipment in here.

Once she gets the room secured to _her_ standards, of course.

She’s officially a part of the Inquisition now, not just by Leliana’s contract. She’s been registered as _Laura Vidal,_ one of the Commander’s contacts from his time in the templars. Cullen’s given her enough information about himself to allay any suspicions, should they arise - not that she expects them to. The Inquisition has plenty of employees as it is - no one’s going to take a second look at her. 

She’s met the ambassador, Josephine Montilyet - a lovely woman, charming yet shrewd - and even spoke briefly with Jillian Trevelyan herself. Granted, it was just a brief exchange of hellos, but- it’s the first time she’s ever spoken to her sister.

_Half sister_ , she corrects herself while splashing water onto her face. The shock of the cold to her system rouses her out of her drowsiness, something she’s glad for. There’s still work to be done.

She goes back to the bed, where her laptop’s still sitting. There’s a picture of her and Zevran staring back at her now, her favorite picture made screensaver. She sighs. It’s been a while since she’s seen him - they’ve both been so busy with their respective jobs. She wonders if their paths will cross over this whole Venatori business. She hopes not - he’s comfortable now, happily married to the well-respected elven rights activist Megara Tabris, and she doubts the lawyer would appreciate him getting up to his old shenanigans. 

Elise settles in, makes herself comfortable, and takes a sip of coffee. It’s cold now, and terribly bitter, but caffeine is caffeine. So far, what they’ve learned from the raid in the Haven tunnels is that the Venatori are fanatics, determined to see Tevinter rise no matter the cost. They’ve spread their reach far and wide - including having infiltrated the royal palace of both Ferelden _and_ Nevarra.

Even worse than their espionage and infiltration is the fact that they’re producing and distributing red lyrium. There’s not much data on the subject, aside from the rumors that the former Knight Commander of Kirkwall was on the stuff when she went insane. Elise knows about regular lyrium - it’s the drug most favored by the templars, though their official stance was always “no drugs here.” She’d never personally encountered it during her time with the templars, but it was one of those always-whispered rumors that the only way to rise up the ranks was to partake in the stuff. 

She wonders if Cullen was on it. She’s seen a few signs, subtle as they are, that make her think that he’d taken it. 

Gnawing on her lip, a habit she’s tried unsuccessfully to break, she searches for the dangers of lyrium addiction. Included among them are obsessive behaviors, paranoia, and memory loss. She frowns as she reads further. Symptoms of ‘lyrium hunger’ are weakness, severe migranes, an unquenchable thirst, and cold hands.

She thinks back to their first meeting, how his hand had been close to freezing when she shook it. She’d put it to the cold weather outside, but now… and hadn’t he postponed their meeting yesterday afternoon because of a headache? She _hmmms_ under her breath. The evidence is circumstantial at best. Cold hands could be just that - cold hands. And plenty of people suffer from headaches. She should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Clearing the search, she instead starts to dig through the mash of information they’ve obtained, trying to trace origins and cross-reference any known usernames. There’s not a lot to go by, but she’s got a couple of names. Duke Antoine of Wycome seems to be mentioned quite a few times, as is Lord Enzo of Antiva. Elise growls as a familiar name pops up - Crassius Servis. He’s an unscrupulous smuggler with fewer morals than a speck of dirt. For all his greed though, he’s no fool. He’s not going to be working for the Venatori just for a big payday. There’s got to be something else in it for him.

She makes a note to contact Varric. If anyone can figure out what that slimy eel is up to, it’s the suave _Ser_ Tethras.

Another name turns up - Magister Livius Erimond. A quick search reveals he’s a big player in Tevinter’s political circle, along with Magister Gereon Alexius. 

_Gereon Alexius_. Why does that name ring a bell?

...hadn’t one of the Venatori mentioned him? Said something about him being in Redcliffe?

There’d also been mention of _Calpernia_ . A quick search reveals no information - which doesn’t surprise her. It sounds as though this Calpernia is one of the big brass - not the sort to leave behind any digital fingerprints. Still, Elise rigs her system to run a deep trawl - it’ll take a couple hours, but she’s fairly certain _something_ will turn up.

A pop-up window jumps onto the screen, alerting her to the fact that someone’s been searching for _Elise Delacourt_. She frowns. It could be Cassandra, especially after their unfortunate encounter the other day, but something tells her it’s not…

And she’s right. The traceback leads to a familiar username - _lionheart_. 

She’s _infuriated_ . Hasn’t Cassandra done _enough_ to her? And why hadn’t Leliana warned her? What happened to that ‘personal guarantee’?

And that blithering idiot, running a search on only a partially-secure network. What’s _wrong_ with him? Typing a quick command, she blocks the search from running.

> Robin: Your network isn’t secure, jackass!
> 
> Lionheart: How did you do that?

She sighs. The cat’s out of the bag. They’re going to be working together for what looks to be a good chunk of time, might as well satiate his curiosity.

> Robin: You know where to go. 5 minutes.

It’s almost twenty minutes past the hour before there’s a knock on her door. Exhaling, she steels herself and goes to open it. Cullen’s standing there, an unreadable expression on his face. In his hand he carries two cups of coffee - the good kind, she can smell it - and a box of donuts.

It’s clearly meant as a peace offering, and it goes a long way into taking the fuel out of her ire. She sighs, and stands aside. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

He walks past her. This close, she can see his hair’s still damp. He smells of soap and something spicy, probably his deodorant. It’s… very appealing, and she resists the urge to lean in and fill her lungs with it.

“I know.” He sets everything on the small table that’s meant for meals, but has several documents scattered across it. “But I wanted to.” He cocks his head, the edge of his lips quirk upwards. “Are you wearing a disguise? You had blue eyes when I first met you.”

Suddenly self-conscious, she tucks in a stray strand that’s escaped her loose braid. “No,” she murmurs, her eyes dropping to the floor. “This is- well, this is me.”

“Oh.” She can feel his gaze on her, can feel the way he’s taking her in. It’s not an unpleasant sensation… quite the contrary, actually. Her skin breaks out into goosebumps. “You have pretty hair.” Elise looks up at him, startled at the softness of his tone. He’s smiling now, that smile that lifts his scar and makes him look so very rakish. “And your eyes are nicer than coffee.” He holds out a cup, steam drifting lazily from the liquid within it.

Chuckling, she takes the cup he’s offering. “Thanks.” She’s not sure herself if it’s for the compliment, or the caffeine. With a grateful huff, she goes to sit on the bed. He looks around for a few seconds, till he spots a chair, and pulls it up closer to her. They both say nothing for several minutes, instead drinking their coffee and sizing the other up.

Finally, she sighs. “How about a deal? I’ll answer your questions - to a limit - if you answer mine. Sounds fair?”

He considers it, then nods. “Deal.”

“Alright, then. How much do you know?”

Cullen gives her a half smile, the scar on his lip making him look rakish. “How about you turn off your recording devices first?”

She laughs, delighted. “Smart.” She reaches across the mattress and taps a button on her laptop. 

“I manage.” With a flourish, he pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and makes a show of it being turned off.

“No games, Commander. We’re stuck together for Maker-knows-how-long, I guess some honesty is due. So. How much do you know?”

He shifts, trying to find a more comfortable position. Settling himself, he tells her what he’s heard from Cassandra and Leliana. Elise is a little disappointed he knows so much, but she’s also relieved he knows next to nothing about her origins. 

“I’m sorry about-” he coughs, uncomfortable. “I thought I was on a secure network, but I guess not. I hope you know I would never knowingly do anything to jeopardize you.” It’s said so forthrightly, and so full of earnestness, that she believes him.

Elise clears her throat. “You didn’t- it wasn’t a disaster, or anything.” She nurses the styrofoam cup between her hands. “I just have a script set up that alerts me anytime anyone tries to run a search on me.”

“Oh?” He tilts his head, interest made clear. “How does it work? I noticed that my attempt was cancelled, I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Well, not many people know who I am,” she smirks, setting aside the coffee and pulling the laptop close to her. “But yes, that’s an option I have, though you’re the first person I’ve used it on.” She pulls up the program. “Usually, I trace the inquiry back, and divert them to the wrong information.” To prove her point, she shows him the false data - instead of Elise Delacourt, there’s a bunch of information about Elise De La’Courte.

“Clever,” Cullen murmurs, eyes scanning the screen. “I assume you altered the Templar and Seeker records as well?”

“Of course.”

“Nothing but a dead end,” his lips thin as he reads the fake obituary, and she wonders why. “Make anyone curious think that you’re just another scammer who’s assumed the identity of a dead Seeker.” Cullen leans back into the chair, rests his elbow on the table. “Why not just remove everything about you altogether? Leave a blank trace?”

It’s a question she’s expected. “Because in this line of business, no data is a red flag. No data means that a) Someone doesn’t want that to be available, and b) That information was a liability to them. Just makes the ‘ _hey I’m up to shady shit’_ alarm ring louder.”

He absentmindedly opens up the box of donuts, takes one out, and bites into it. Flecks of powdered sugar coat the corners of his lips, and she has the sudden urge to lick it clean.

“So,” he swallows the mouthful before speaking, which she appreciates. It’s a pet peeve of hers, people who try to talk with food in their mouths. “What do you know of Corypheus?”

“Hey, I think it’s my turn to ask the questions.”

He puts the last piece into his mouth and wipes his hands on his pants. Rolling her eyes, she points at the roll of paper towels behind him. He looks distinctly sheepish as he tears one off, and wipes his mouth clean.

There goes her chance to- _nope_ she’s not going to think about that. Nope.

“What do you want to know?” He rests his ankle on his knee, takes a long draught of coffee. “I’m sure you’ve already looked up everything about me there is to know.”

She has. She knows he was born in Honneleath, that he has three siblings, that he’s the only unmarried one. She knows he joined the Templar Training Corps at a young age, that he graduated from Denerim University with honors, that he holds a degree in Criminology. She knows he’s an exceptional chess player, that he won tournaments while in college.

She knows he was tortured during the Kinloch takeover. She’s not going to ask him about that. That would be cruel.

But there’s something she really wants to know, and there’s only one way to find out.

“Tell me about Kirkwall,” she says.

Cullen stiffens immediately. “What about Kirkwall?” he’s cautious and suspicious.

“You were Knight Captain. Did you _really_ not see what Meredith was up to?”

He looks away, presses his forefinger and thumb into his eyes. His body is still rigid, and she sees his Adam’s apple bob repeatedly. It’s almost as though he’s struggling for words, though she can’t be certain. There’s a silence so long and so uncomfortable, she’s sure he’s going to brush aside her question. 

Whether he wants to talk about it - or not - is going to be entirely his decision, though. 

Finally, a long pause later - just as she was about to give in and change the subject - he speaks. “You have to understand,” he begins, his voice hoarse. “Kinloch changed me - I assume you know about what happened there?” When she nods, he continues. “We were sent there as a formality. Give the conference a bit of security, keep everyone comfortable. Raw recruits, most of us were. And then-” he swallows. The memory is clearly still painful. Sympathetic, Elise reaches out and covers his hand, and he lets her. “No one expected Uldred to go insane. He- he released some kind of toxin gas. Made everyone paranoid and aggressive. His followers - they weren’t affected, they’d been immunized to it. They- they took us hostage. Threatened to kill us. They- they killed so many of my friends. Slowly. Painfully. All I could do was watch. I tried, and tried, and- I couldn’t help. Francis. Edward. Milla. They were good people, they didn’t deserve any of it! And they- the things they did to me. How can anyone go through that and still be the same?” He runs a shaky hand down his face, eyes haunted with a thousand demons, and falls into silence.

“After that, I was- suspicious. Kinloch taught me that there were terrorists everywhere. And when I was sent to Kirkwall… Meredith encouraged those suspicions. Fanned them, even. It didn’t help that we _did_ stop multiple attempts there. Decimus Lantorum. Grace Felsberg. Even Sister Petrice from the Chantry! Each time we stopped one, it just made me all the more certain that I was right. That Meredith was right.”

There’s another long pause. Cullen looks torn, as though he’s not sure just how much he should confide. She gives him space, reaches past him to grab a donut for herself. It’s a jam-filled one, and some spills onto her shirt when she bites into it. He cracks a small smile, hands her several napkins, but doesn’t say anything.

“I was on lyrium,” he bursts out suddenly. It startles her, and she freezes in her attempt to keep the jam from staining.

“What?”

“Lyrium,” he repeats, so quiet she has to strain to hear what he’s saying. “I was on it, when I was in the Templars. It was- everyone in my unit was on it. It was expected of us, actually. Made us better soldiers, the commanding officers said. And… it did. Made us stronger, faster. When I got to Kirkwall, the Templars there were on it, too. Meredith… she kept increasing my dose. It did nothing for my paranoia - probably made it worse. It kept me so focused on all the things happening outside the Templars that I failed to notice what was going on within.” He winces. “Not that it’s any excuse. I should have been more vigilant. I was there to protect Kirkwall, and… I failed.” He hangs his head, despondent. 

The silence now is heavy and uncomfortable, filled with his shame and guilt and regret. There are a hundred things running through her mind - about lyrium, about his sudden honesty, about Kirkwall - but she pushes them aside. The man in front of her is a haunted one, barely able to beat back the demons from his past, and he doesn’t need questions right now. 

What he does need is compassion. From her, since it’s clear he isn’t giving it to himself. 

Elise shifts, moves forward, and reaches out to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. “Hey,” she says, and waits till he meets her gaze. “It’s not your fault.”

He starts to argue, but she cuts him off. “It’s not _all_ your fault,” she amends. “But it’s less your fault than you think. Look, I- I’ve experienced my share of corruption - you heard from Cassandra, right?” Cullen nods, clearly unsure about where she’s going with it, but she’s just glad he’s willing to listen. “I paid attention, and I figured out shit was wrong. I tried to draw attention to it. I tried to speak up. And what happened?” She counts off on her fingers. “They made my life hell. I was written up, I was punished, I was given the worst duties. My stuff either went missing, or ended up damaged. I received death threats, and no one would do anything about it when I complained. I had an exemplary service record, multiple medals, and they found an excuse to demote me. I quit because I knew if I stayed they’d dishonorably discharge me, and I didn’t want that…” She clears her throat. “Anyway, the point I’m making is this - even if you _had_ known, it’s very likely something similar would’ve happened to you. Organizations with power-” she shakes her head, “-the more power they have, the more they want, and they don’t take too kindly to anyone trying to take it away from them.”

“If I’d just paid more attention, I could have-”

“Who would you have complained to? Who would have listened? Cullen, come on, if you need any more proof as to just how fucked up the Templars are, just take a look at what they’re doing now!”

“They’re… not doing anything,” he states slowly.

“Exactly. With what happened at the Conclave, they should be investigating! Protecting the people, reinforcing security, something. But no one even knows _where_ they are!”

He doesn’t seem entirely convinced, but he doesn’t argue with her. She refrains from talking about his lyrium addiction. Now doesn’t seem the time.

“So,” he changes the subject with a wry smile, and she lets him, “is it my turn to ask the questions?”

Elise shrugs. “Knock yourself out.”

They spend the next few hours avoiding business entirely, and instead spend the time talking about their families, and their childhoods. She learns about all the dogs he grew up with, how he struggled with the lack of privacy that came with having to share a room with his brother, how homesick he’d been when he first moved to the college dorm.

She tells him about how lonely she was as an only child, how she was made fun of in school for not having a father, her first job at a fast food restaurant when she was fifteen.

When he finally leaves, it’s three in the morning - and she’s still smiling wide as she crawls into bed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that Meredith was abusing Cullen by making him take such a high dose of lyrium. I'm also convinced that being addicted to such a high dose made him more focused on his next hit as opposed to seeing what was actually going on in Kirkwall...


	6. Connaissances désagréables

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise heads to Therinfal, and discovers something incredibly disturbing.

There are multiple ways to get to Therinfal Redoubt - drive (a journey that takes about nine hours), or a flight (two and a half hours, excluding security checks and any unforeseen delays). The only problem with both those options is fairly simple: they’re not stealthy.

Something’s going on in the old Seeker military base, that’s for certain. Satellite pictures show that it's occupied, and active. Drone footage shows that the templars have taken residence. The last moments of video - before said drone was shot down - show several squadrons performing training exercises. 

Suffice to say, there’s some serious shit going down.

Which is why she finds herself standing next to an open aircraft door, 25,000 feet above ground. The night sky is clear, the smallest sliver of the moons producing too little light to give them away. Elise stares at the stars, trying to calm the thundering of her heart. It’s not her first time doing this, but this isn’t exactly the kind of thing one gets used to.

Everything on the ground is various shades of dark. Only the light from homesteads and households indicate that the ground isn’t one even surface. They’re not going to be parachuting into Therinfal - they’re not stupid - but the lands of Arl Wulff. Her orders are clear - infiltrate Therinfal, sabotage their surveillance equipment, and ensure the Inquisition has eyes inside the base.

She’s also got an additional task, given to her by the Commander himself - to look for signs of red lyrium. Cullen’s told her about what it does - makes the user almost inhumanely strong, while sharply decreasing their mental capacities. The result are murderous beasts with hair-trigger tempers who can easily be manipulated by anyone with half a brain. There’s no concrete proof yet, but he suspects that it’s also highly addictive - even more than regular lyrium is.

If the Templars are on the stuff, it’s bad news. It’ll mean that the Inquisition will have to go to battle and take them down - because there’s no way the Venatori could be allowed to take control of them.

What she does will determine a lot of things. Including the number of potential casualties.

“Go, go, go!” The instructor gives her the all clear, and she jumps out. Despite her protective suit, she’s still freezing - unsurprising, given that she’s falling at 200 miles per hour in subzero temperatures. 

“Still alive, lass?” Rylen’s thick Starkhaven brogue cuts through the static of her headset. She tilts her head up, makes eye contact with him, and gives him a thumbs up, then flips him the bird. He laughs.

Thirty seconds. One minute. Minute and a half. Adrenaline’s coursing through her veins, making her hyper aware. She can feel her breath fogging up her helmet. She can feel her stomach press up against her ribs. She can see the ground getting closer, and closer, and closer. Every instinct she has is screaming at her to open her parachute, to do everything she can to stay alive - self preservation on overdrive.

But she fights it.

Two minutes. “Now,” she barks into her headset, and pulls the cord. There’s a sharp, painful jerk as her momentum decreases abruptly - followed by overwhelming relief that it  _ did _ open. She says nothing as they use the attached toggles to navigate into location, and neither does Rylen. Once on the ground, they gather up the billowy material, and drag it into the nearby barn.

It smells overwhelmingly of stale manure, and mold, but it’s habitable. Rylen zips down his jumpsuit and steps out of it. Elise can’t help but admire his form - he’s built solidly, maybe an inch or so shorter than the Commander, but no less impressive. There’s a tattoo on his chin, solid black lines that make him look both roguish and intimidating. He catches her looking, and preens, striking a pose to show off his biceps. She rolls her eyes.

“Come on,” she takes off her own jumpsuit. “We’ve work to do.”

“I can’t place than accent,” he remarks as they drag some disused crates to serve as makeshift tables. “Definitely not Ferelden, though.”

“Good ear,” she remarks dryly, opening up her laptop. She pulls a ration bar from her rucksack and bites into it.

“So, where’re you from?” he persists.

“Everywhere, nowhere,” she quips, running the program that’ll let her hack into the Therinfal network. One of the reasons they’ve chosen to operate out of this particular barn is that it’s close - but not  _ too _ close! - to one of the Therinfal security cams, which gives them the entry point they need to get into the system. 

“That’s not an answer, lass.”

“I know.”

He sighs, but there’s no irritation in it. “You’re quite an enigma, Miss Vidal. I can see why the Commander’s got his eye on you.”

She chokes on the mouthful of granola. Rylen looks absolutely gleeful as she washes it down with a swig of water. “What?” she sputters, her cheeks heating up.

Maker damn it, she’s  _ blushing _ . What in the Void?? Elise Delacourt  _ never _ blushes. Ever.

“That’s a pretty shade of pink on you, lass,” Rylen’s more than a little smug.

_ Dammit. _

“Fuck you, Rylen,” she mutters, turning back to the screen.

“Ach, that’d be a mighty pleasure now.” 

She chooses to ignore it, works instead to untangle the Therinfal signal from the jumble of others. It’s not a difficult task, only boring. By the time she’s located and isolated it, Rylen’s made about fifty five passes around the barn - driving her battier with each one.

“Got it!” she exclaims triumphantly. The actual ‘hacking’ isn’t a big deal - she’s familiar with how the Templar and Seeker systems work - and soon she’s plugged into the Therinfal security.

Here, however, is the big problem. She can’t have the security feed on a loop all night - it would be too easily noticed. Turning it off entirely was also off the table. She could cut the feed at a certain time, but the question was  _ when _ ?

“Problem? Rylen flops next to her, his shoulder pressing against hers. She doesn’t pull away - he’s so warm, and that warmth is so welcome right now.

“Kinda?” She explains the issue to him. “So what do you think?”

“Keep it on a loop until we exfiltrate. Turn it off before the air strike.”

She hums thoughtfully. It’s what she’s been thinking, too. She can trigger the video loop from her phone as they get closer to the compound, and turn it off once they leave. The only thing that matters is getting into the server room and uploading the virus that Solas has designed.

Elise is still not sure what to make of the elven hacker. He’d been nothing but polite and respectful, and that he’s a genius is certain. He’s more… unassuming than she’d expected, tall, broad-shouldered and attractive in an unconventional way, what with his strong, sharp jaw, piercing silver-blue eyes and pierced ears. He’d been upfront about attempting to investigate her, had praised her for the measures she’d taken. His open nature and frank way of speaking should trigger none of her instincts. And yet… there’s  _ something _ about him. Something she can’t quite put her finger on. Something that has her heart racing in his presence, that makes her body think  _ predator _ . Which is… laughable. He’s just a quiet introvert. Right?

She huffs, irritated at herself. Now’s not the time to try to unravel that mystery, so she insteads gathers together all that she needs, and goes over the plan once again with Rylen. 

Therinfal is almost eerily silent as they make their approach. Elise adjusts the position of the security cameras so it doesn’t spot them climbing over the fence. There’s a bit of a wait before the night patrol around the corner, into their view. Elise frowns - there’s something off about them, especially their gait. The two men - or women, she can’t tell from here - seem to be  _ hulking _ , hunched over in a beast-like manner. She pulls out the binoculars from her pack, and zooms in - and she can’t help the gasp that escapes her.

“ _ Sac à foutre _ !”

“What’s the matter?” Rylen’s voice is clipped, as tense as their situation.

She hands him the binoculars as a reply, and he swears quietly under his breath as he sees what alarmed her. The Commander suspected red lyrium, and they’ve found their proof. The two exchange a look, and silently agree to let this patrol pass. The last thing they need is to accidentally come into contact with red lyrium - not when they don’t know what the stuff does. Elise takes a couple of pictures, making sure to zoom into the faces with what appears to be red crystals rimming the bulging eyes and chapped lips.

It takes another half hour before a second patrol shows up, this one more normal-looking. Though neither she nor Rylen can tell whether or not they’re entirely free of red lyrium, this is the closest they’re going to get. Aligning their sniper rifles, they count down and shoot, simultaneously taking both out. It’s an easy enough matter to hide the bodies in a nearby storm drain, and before long they’re in the Templar uniforms and making their way to their destination.

“We’ve an hour before the jig is up,” Rylen cautions.

“I know.” She pulls up the map of the fortress on her phone, identifies their current location and where they need to go. “Let’s get this done, quick. I don’t like this place.”

She doesn’t. It gives her the absolute creeps. She’s lived in barracks before, and though nights were quiet - on account of everyone sleeping - there was always the sound of someone snoring, or muffled conversations, or even hushed static. Here, though, there’s none of that. Instead, she can hear heavy breathing, low growls, and a strange, high-pitched buzzing that’s starting to give her a headache.

They make their way towards a two-storey building in the far corner, circling it to get to the hidden basement entrance. There’s a biometric scanner there, nothing that she hasn’t prepared for. In a matter of minutes, they’re walking down the stairs, the heavy metal door shut behind them.

“Which way?” her Starkhaven companion asks when they reach a fork at the bottom of the stairwell. 

_ Right _ , she’s about to reply, when they’re instead startled by the sound of approaching footsteps. They look at each other, alarmed. There’s no place to hide, here, and it’ll take too long for them to go back up. 

“Fuck,” she mutters, eyes darting this way and that. “Got any ideas? ‘Cause I’m all out.”

Rylen takes a split second to reach a decision. He pushes her up against the wall, mutters “Play along,” and before she can ask him what’s going on his lips crash into hers.

She squeaks, tamping down the instinct to push him away, and instead wraps her arms around his shoulders. He shifts, moving his hands under her thighs and encouraging her to wrap her legs around his waist, which she does. All the while, he’s still kissing her, and after the initial moment of absolute surprise she finds herself enjoying it.

His lips are chapped from the cold wind, and the prickle of his stubble is a sweet bite of pain. He tastes of granola and mint. She can hear the footsteps getting closer and closer, and her heart is racing, so loud in her chest she wonders if Rylen can hear it. 

“You two  _ again _ ?” the stranger - Elise can’t see their face, but the voice belongs to a woman - sounds exasperated. “You can’t keep coming here for a quick fuck!”

Rylen mumbles something, more a random sound than an attempt at words, being careful to keep their heads pressed together. Elise moans, as much an attempt to keep up the pretense as it is in response to the way Rylen’s slid his tongue between her lips.

The woman huffs. “Just do it quickly, and get out. If I ever catch you two again I’m going to report it, I swear.”

Rylen waves her off, and they wait till there’s a sound of a door closing, and no more footsteps. He lets her down from the wall, his cheeks flushed - as hers likely are, she’s sure. They’re both breathing heavily, not quite able to look at the other. Finally, Rylen flashes her a quick, cheeky smile. “Sorry about that. I couldn’t think of anything else.”

They begin to make their way towards the server room. “How did you know it would work?” she asks.

He shrugs. “I’ve been on patrol before. There’s always someone looking to fuck in places they’re  _ really _ not supposed to. Figured it was worth a shot, aye?”

She chuckles. “We’re lucky it worked.”

Contrary to the other rooms in the vicinity, which all have fancy biometric locks, the server room is plain, easily mistaken for a janitor’s closet. The room is packed with servers, many of them rack mounted, in tower and blade enclosures. Elise plugs in her phone to the server administrator system, and begins to upload Solas’ virus.

“How long is that going to take?” Rylen’s keeping a watch by the doorway.

“About five minutes.”

“We have twenty five minutes left.”

“Gotcha.”

It’s an uneventful wait as the virus is uploaded, and several minutes later she’s done, having installed monitoring software of her own as well, allowing her a back door into the system. Job done, they exit. It’s when they’re halfway up the stairwell that she hears the sound - it’s a loud wail, more animal than human. She stills, debating whether or not to investigate.

Rylen grabs her arm. “Come on, we have to keep going.”

She shrugs off his grip, having made up her mind. “I have to- I need to see what’s going on.” 

He pulls her back, his face grim. “It’s- I know what that is, lass, and it’s not pleasant. It’s not worth investigating. Trust me.”

It’s not that she  _ doesn’t _ trust him, it’s just - the sounds haven’t stopped, the wails having given way to whimpers, and- and she can’t live with herself if she doesn’t at least check it out. If there’s someone who needs her help- she tells Rylen as much.

She can feel him disapproving behind her, but he follows her nonetheless. There’s another flight of stairs to go down, made of rotting wood, and it’s a miracle that the boards don’t creak beneath their feet. A wave of nauseating stench hits her at the bottom, shit and piss and rotting flesh all combined. She gags, but presses onward towards the sound. There’s a row of prison cells, most of the occupants long-dead. There isn’t enough light to make out what killed them, and part of her is grateful for that.

She stops in front of the cell with the only living occupant. He’s little more than a bag of bones, hair and beard matted, skin covered with open, oozing sores. He’s rocking himself back and forth, both hands clutching his head. She feels Rylen stiffen behind her.

“Edwards?”

Rylen’s voice, filled with horror, is little more than a whisper, but it catches the attention of the prisoner. 

“Who’s there?” The man lunges at the bars, and she takes a step backwards. Edward’s mouth breaks into an ugly smile, revealing missing teeth and blackened gums. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Knight Captain Rylen.” His glaze flicks over to her. “Got some shiny new friends, I see.” He leers at Elise. “Looks like a pretty little thing.”

“What happened?” Rylen ignores the less than friendly greeting.

“Not all of us found a way out, Rylen me lad-” Edwards breaks into a violent cough, blood-tinged spittle spraying from his mouth. “I ain’t no traitor,” he sneers. 

“The Templars treat all non-traitors as well as you?”

Edwards curses, a string of words so vile she’s tempted to punch him in the face. “Wanted to upgrade me, they said. Some fancy new red stuff. Not my style, I wanted to stick with the blue. They didn’t like that. And I didn’t have no fancy Inquisition to bail my ass out.”

“They stopped giving you the stuff?” Rylen’s voice is quiet, filled with pity.

“Tried to get me to change my mind. Went half mad before I agreed to try the new stuff, but then they said it was too late. Left me here to rot, just like the rest.” Edwards rattles the iron bars. “You could’ve done something. You and that Maker-damned Rutherford. You could’ve helped us out, instead you turned your backs on us! They’re  _ dead _ Rylen! Dead ‘cause of fuckers like Rutherford, too self-absorbed to care about the rest of us!! Ain’t fair that you get a new life, and I’m stuck down here!” The man shrieks, eyes showing too much white. “Fucking Rutherford, acting like he’s better than the rest of us when he’s just as addicted to the blue as I am. Well, you’ll get yours, fuckers. Just a matter of time, innit? You’ll lose everything, and I’ll be laughing. Just you wait, Rylen, just you wait…” Edwards sinks to the floor, his spew of hatred giving way to a babble of nonsense. It’s clear to Elise that the man’s lost most of his mind.

This time, when Rylen drags her away, she lets him. They leave the compound in silence, burning the Templar uniforms in the barn before making their way to the pickup point.

The entire time, there’s one thing running through her mind.

_ Lyrium _ .

She needs to know. “You still on it?”

He’s staring at the ground. “Yeah. I’m trying to quit, but- you saw Edwards. You can’t just quit cold turkey. It’ll kill you.”

“Is Cul- is the Commander quitting, too?”

Rylen shakes his head. “He stopped taking the stuff. Right after he joined the Inquisition.”

There’s fear in her chest now, icy cold. “Isn’t that bad?”

Her partner says nothing for a long time. Then, finally- “It’s what he wants.”

“But it could  _ kill him _ !”

Rylen shrugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted Elise and Rylen to kiss, okay? :D


	7. Rester à mes côtés

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Cullen have a disagreement, but how will they work together when they're mad at each other?

"Do you want to talk about it?" Cullen asks softly.

"Nope." She continues to stare out of the window of his office. There are several pigeons flying in the cloudless sky, riding on the currents; she guesses that they’re Leliana’s trained pigeons. The spymaster has a fascination with the idea of carrier pigeons, and has trained many of them personally. There’s a sharp whistle, a brief sound, and the birds all dive down in unison towards their trainer.

She tenses as Cullen joins her side, the fur on his coat brushing against the side of her face. He’s so much taller than her, a solid foot almost, but it’s not intimidating. She’s disconcerted by the strange feeling of  _ protected _ she feels each time she’s around him.

She doesn’t need him. She doesn’t need anyone. She’s got herself.

Despite those thoughts in her mind, she shifts towards him, his warmth irresistible. He grunts in annoyance when he spots the birds. “Leliana is going to be late,” he grumbles.

“That’s not Leliana on the field,” she remarks. “Too short. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s Agent Harding with the birds.”

“You’re correct,” they turn, startled, at the sound of the spymaster’s voice. Elise doesn’t know when - or how - Leliana entered the room, but the woman has her back towards them and is skimming through a report she’s taken from the Commander’s desk. The redhead lets out a thoughtful  _ hmmm _ and sets the sheet back down. “So, Seneschal Lisbeth is a Venatori agent. Unsurprising. Her husband was from Tevinter, if memory serves me.”

“Actually, it’s not as simple as that,” Elise grimly hands over a folder. Leliana quirks a brow, but says nothing as she examines its contents. There’s a scowl on her face when she’s done. “You’re sure about this?”

“Brycen contacted me himself." Cullen folds his arms, shifts from one foot to the other. "Lisbeth was warned not to contact the police, but he came across some correspondence between the Seneschal and the kidnappers. He’s hoping that we could maybe trace the emails to a location.”

“Clever,” Leliana murmurs. “And ruthless. How long has the child been missing?”

“About a month, now.”

Cullen voices the grim thought that is on everyone’s mind. “The child might not be alive. It’s been too long.”

“Do we know who the kidnappers are?”

“Severin Faramore,” Elise replies, flipping through the notes she’s made. “His parents lived in Nessum, but they were killed when the town’s-” she cleared her throat, “-when the town’s indentured servants rebelled. He managed to flee, and made his way to Orlais where he joined the Templars, but he was discharged after he was caught in a lyrium smuggling operation. He’s had his fingers in several larcenies since - grand theft, forgery, smuggling, even manslaughter. Makes sense that the Venatori would recruit him.”

“Any known hangouts?”

“He has a history of running off to Kaiten to escape the heat,” Elise idly scratches her jaw. “But Ansberg is another possibility. He’s got several outstanding warrants in Nevarra, and I have it on good authority that the Crows will slit his throat if he even dips a toe into Antiva, so he’s hiding out in the Free Marches.”

“I have contacts in Ansberg,” Cullen picks up a notepad, writes something down. The silver pen glints in the sunlight. “They’ll be able to tell me if they’ve seen this Severin. Could you send me a description please, Elise?”

“Of course, Commander.” She relishes the way he winces at her clinical use of his title.

“Elise, get down to Kaiten and investigate. Take someone with you. Maybe Rylen?” Leliana’s face is blank enough, but Elise makes out the wicked twinkle in her eye and wonders just how much the spymaster knows.

“Not Rylen,” Cullen immediately counters, and flushes when the two women stare quizzically at him. “He’s… busy. With other matters. And- he’s not well.”

Elise narrows her eyes, concerned about whether the lyrium withdrawal is seriously affecting Rylen. Leliana accepts his explanation without question. “Well then, we need someone to assist Elise, commander. Any recommendations?”

“I’ll think of someone.”

“Good. Elise, try to bring Severin alive for questioning if you can, but it’s not a requirement.”

“Understood.”

The uncomfortable silence between them resumes after Leliana leaves. Elise tries to focus on making plans - she’ll need to book flights, hire a rental car, and then there’s the matter of the equipment she’ll need-

“We have to talk about it sometime.” Cullen sounds reasonable, but there’s an undertone of sadness to his words.

“There’s nothing to talk about, commander. You’ve made your position perfectly clear.” She has a mental flashback to their heated argument several days ago. What had started off as a concerned discussion over his abrupt withdrawal from lyrium had devolved into a heated argument, with both of them raising their voices. She knew Cullen had a point - she had no idea how it felt to be addicted to lyrium. But she understood  _ why _ he wanted to quit the stuff. All she’d suggested was that maybe he do it slowly, like Rylen, instead of quitting cold turkey. She hasn’t been able to get that image of Edwards out of her mind. She doesn’t want that for Cullen.

But then he’d gone and told her that his decisions were none of her business, and that had stung. After the time they’d spent together - and all the conversations, and the shared secrets - she’d thought they were friends. But - apparently not.

“Why do you care?” he asks.

She stares up at him, confounded. How does he not- she begins to say  _ because we’re friends and I like you _ , but her pride is still wounded. Instead, she shrugs, and casually remarks. “I don’t. What you choose to do is none of my business.”

“Elise, I didn’t mean-”

“You’ll have to excuse me, commander,” she cuts him off. “I have to make some arrangements. Please let me know who I’m going to be working with.”

His eyes are sad. She notes distractedly that his dark circles are worse today, and the way he’s wincing against the light tells her he either has a migraine or is getting one. Concern almost slips off her tongue but she bites it back.

“Of course,” he says after a long pause. One hand is gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles are white. His other hand is trembling lightly as he picks up his tablet. She’s worried now, seriously so. “I won’t be keeping you, Ms. Vidal.”

It’s her turn to wince. She wants to stay, to make sure he’s better, but it’s clear she’s been dismissed. She turns and walks away slowly, debating over whether or not to toss her pride aside and offer him comfort, but- she remembers the way he’d yelled at her, brown eyes blazing amber gold, nostrils flaring, jaw clenched as he hissed out, “My decisions are my own affair, and I’ll thank you to remember that.”

She leaves.

There’s a message waiting for her when she staggers back to her room late that evening. Her head is throbbing unpleasantly - too many shots of cheap liquor will do that. That damned Tanner had coaxed her into joining a game of poker, and she’s paid the price for that - both literally and figuratively. She has to blink several times at the screen before the words come into focus. It’s Cullen, telling her that there’s no need for her to go to Kaiten because Severin’s been spotted in Ansburg.

And he’s going to be joining her for the mission.

She groans, and sets the tablet down. She’s certain now that he’s a sadist - why else would he do this to her?

\---

Cullen’s status in the Inquisition is the reason they’re driving down to Ansberg - if the Venatori learn of his destination it could spook Severin - but Elise doesn’t mind. She’s always been fond of a good road trip, even if the company isn’t what she’d have chosen. The music’s turned up high as they fly down the Imperial Highway. She’d have preferred a drop top, but the SUV they’re in is a nice ride.

_ There’s a world outside every darkened door, where the blues won’t haunt you any more, where the brave are free and lovers soar, come ride with me _ \- Cullen stops singing when he sees her glancing at him. His cheeks turn pink. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

She grins at him, and turns her focus back to the road.  _ Life is a highway _ , she’s still smiling as she sings, and she can feel his gaze on her. It makes her sing louder.  _ I wanna ride it all night long _ .

_ If you’re going my way _ , he joins in.  _ I wanna drive it all night long _ .

They switch places at a run-down gas station on the outskirts of Laidon. She goes into the convenience store manned by a single, bored-looking woman to use the bathroom, and when she’s done she heads outside to find that Cullen’s bought an assortment of chocolate and gum. She takes the styrofoam cups he hands her, surprised to find it's hot chocolate and not coffee, but- it's what she was craving, and it stuns her that he's read her mind. The smile he gives in response to her gratefully muttered  _ thanks _ is wide and warm. She laughs when she sees the multiple bars of chocolate mints - he’s the only one, other than her, who enjoys them. “Didn’t want to share, did you?” she teases as she tears open the wrapper.

“Hey, save a few for me,” he mock-scowls at her.

“I make no promises,” she giggles as she settles into her seat.

It doesn’t take long before she dozes off. It’s protocol for the passenger to stay awake on road trips, but she’s still exhausted from last night’s nightmare. The images of Cullen, gaunt and haggard with blackened gums and angry, baleful eyes was too much to bear; she hadn’t been able to get any rest after that. Dimly she registers Cullen lower the volume on the radio, and he reaches out to adjust the fleece blanket she’s been covering herself with. She means to thank him, but drifts off into a deeper sleep instead.

When she awakens, they’re an hour away from Ansburg. She yawns and stretches as best as she can, given the cramped space. “Oh, good, you’re up,” Cullen says with a smile. “I didn’t want to wake you, but we do need to talk about the meeting.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s all right. You looked like you needed it.” He flushes. “Not that I’m implying you looked bad, or anything. You just looked a bit tired-”

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she confesses.

There’s a emotion-charged silence, but she can’t figure out what the emotion fuelling it is. “Bad dreams?” he asks at last.

“Yeah.”

“They can be- hard to deal with. I’m sorry.” He’s respectful and gives her space, doesn’t press her for details, for which she’s glad. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She’s had crushes before, has had dreams about them, but what she feels for Cullen doesn’t feel like any of those.

“Anyway, about this meeting,” she begins.

“Oh, right. We’re going to be meeting Delrin Barris. We were colleagues once, works for Ansburg P.D. now. He’s a good man. Apparently he’s had his eye on Severin for a couple of weeks now. He’s going to provide us with the location of his hideout, and has offered to help us infiltrate if need be.”

“Any word on the child?”

“He says he hasn’t seen the boy, but one of his men who managed to get close to the hideout heard a child crying.”

“So there’s still hope, then. Thank the Maker.”

Delrin Barris is a tall man, maybe an inch or two shorter than the commander, with gorgeous ebony skin, deep brown eyes and dimpled cheeks. He’s polite, and friendly, and Elise takes an immediate liking to him. He laughs at her gift of a dozen donuts, inviting them in. His house is simply furnished, with photos of friends and family adorning the walls. Over a pizza dinner they discuss details - Severin’s hideout is a run-down single-story house, with enough distance between it and its neighbors to keep any noise from carrying. The terrain surrounding it is flat and empty, which will make approaching it difficult. 

“Any idea about his routine? Any particular stores he favors, anyone he hangs out with, anything?”

“Well,” Barris hesitates for a moment, then clears his throat. “He’s a regular at  _ Naughty Nobility _ . I can’t be sure, but I suspect that he’s involved with one of the waitresses working there. He’s been spotted leaving the club with a woman on several occasions.”

“How often does he go there? What time does he leave?” There’s an idea forming in her head, but it’ll only work if Severin has a routine.

“He’s there Tuesdays and Thursdays, maybe the odd Wednesday here and there.” Barris is clearly puzzled.

“Mmm. I’ve got an idea.”

\---

Cullen is  _ not _ happy.

He’s grumbled the entire drive to the strip club, and she’s had enough. She abruptly pulls into a semi-lit alleyway, and glares at him. “You have a better idea, commander?” When he remains silent, she nods. “That’s what I thought.”

“This is insane,” he exclaims. “We have no backup, if we’re caught they will hurt the child - or worse - and-”

“Hey,” she stops his rant. “You have to trust me, okay? This is kind of what I do for a living.”

He huffs, but begrudgingly agrees. It takes them several minutes to check, and double check their equipment. They make their way to the  _ Naughty Noble _ \- it’s past midnight, and Severin should be leaving soon. It’s easy enough to bribe the lone, wizened security guard patrolling the parking lot to look the other way, and soon they’re staring at the open trunk of Severin’s beat-up station wagon.

Elise sighs. “At least it’s empty?” Taking a fortifying breath, she enters the trunk first, trying to fold herself into the tapering space at the edge. She tries not to gag at the scent - it smells of sweat and vomit and unwashed laundry. It takes her about a minute to find a position comfortable enough for her to tolerate.

Cullen’s staring down as though he’s about to make the biggest mistake of his life, but he exhales heavily, shakes his head, and climbs in. It’s a tight fit - he has his arm jammed into her side and she’s pretty sure his knee is digging into her groin, but they get the boot lid closed.

It’s a solid ten minutes before they hear the car door open, and the engine start. Severin and his companion are arguing, swearing viciously at each other. The Venatori kidnapper isn’t happy about his companion’s decision to become a stripper, and Elise rolls her eyes at the idiocy of it all.

By the time they pull into the hideout, Elise’s legs are more than halfway to becoming entirely numb. As the car is parked and the occupants disembark, the mood between them has changed from anger to something more lusty. The garage door slides shut, and there’s the sound of another door closing. She waits five minutes, just to be sure no one’s going to be around, before whispering to Cullen to open the boot.

Poor Cullen’s the worse off. He takes several minutes to stretch, and even with that he still limps slightly as they make their way to the door. Elise checks for any alarm, but there’s nothing - it’s only the external entrances that have been secured.

She cracks open the door, just a sliver, enough to let her remote controlled camera - shaped like a roach, yet another of Dagna’s inventions - slip through. All the lights are out, but that’s not an issue for the little camera. There’s a man occupying the first bedroom, loudly snoring from where he’s lying on the bed. The second room has a slender woman sitting at a laptop; her focus is entirely on the screen. The third bedroom houses Severin and his lady friend - there’s the distinct sound of carnal activity filtering through the door. Elise locates what looks to be the door to the basement - it’s reasonable to assume that the Seneschal’s son is being held there. Unfortunately, her little contraption can’t get through that door and down the stairs, so there’s no telling how many of his captors are housed with him.

They enter the house, masks and night-vision goggles on. Cullen’s going to deal with the captors, while Elise will get the boy to safety. It’s the first she’s seen him in action, and it’s clear he’s skilled by the silent, smooth way he moves, no hesitation at all. She takes several seconds to admire his toned ass. She’s more than a little tempted to reach out and give it a little squeeze; she shakes her head and chides herself on the distraction. They split up at the beginning of the corridor; Cullen heads towards the bedrooms while she makes for the basement door. It makes a small squeak as it opens, and she holds her breath; luckily, nothing stirs. The stairs are dark, but she can make out a single incandescent bulb lighting the room. The shadows it casts on the wall tell her there are two people there; one figure’s a whole lot smaller than the other. They both appear to be asleep.

It’s easy enough to make her way down without a sound. Once she’s got a visual, all it takes is a press of the trigger. The venatori agent won’t be an issue. The boy’s awake, huddled by the wall. His eyes are wide, and he shrinks back when she takes a step towards him.

“Hey there,” she smiles, pushing the goggles up to her forehead and pulling down her mask. “Are you Sam?”

He nods, still wary.

She moves slowly, taking measured, deliberate steps in an attempt to not spook him. “Hi Sam. My name is Laura, and I’m a friend of your mom’s. She sent me here to get you.”

“My mom sent you?” he whispers, hopeful yet not daring to believe.

“She did. She misses you terribly. So how about we get out of here, hmm?”

“I can’t.” His lip quivers, and his voice wobbles. “They- they said they’d kill my mom if I tried to run away.” A fat tear slides down his cheek.

She sits on her haunches in front of him.“Your mom is safe, Sam. I promise.” 

He searches her face, and is apparently satisfied by what he finds there. He launches himself at her, his hands clasping around her neck. The force of it throws her off balance, and she falls backwards, Sam on top of her. Which is how Cullen finds them moments later; she grins up at him, and his eyes crinkle up at the corners as he smiles back.

Cullen’s got Sam cradled close to his chest by the time Elise wraps up with her investigations. She stares at them for a moment, an inexplicable warmth in her chest as Cullen laughs quietly at something Sam says. The image of his golden head bent close to the boy, the careful way he’s carrying him, the gentle manner in which he speaks to Sam - they all have her ache with something unfamiliar.

He looks up at her, his gaze so soft. “Have you called Barris?”

“No, not yet.” Elise has to take a deep breath to steady herself. “Just about to.”

Barris is contacted, and hauls the kidnappers away; Severin will be quietly taken to Haven for questioning. A few hours later, under the fluorescent lights of a police station, mother and son are reunited. It’s a touching moment; Elise makes a note to call and talk to her mother.

It’s mid-morning by the time she and Cullen make it back to their hotel. The adrenaline’s worn off, and so have the cups of burnt coffee she’d imbibed. She’s looking forward to some good sleep before they fly back to Haven.

They’re standing side by side in the elevator when she asks the question that’s been itching at her. “Hey,” she catches Cullen’s attention. He’s equally tired, but he looks- relaxed, no doubt pleased with the outcome of their assignment. “Why didn’t you send someone else with me? This mission wasn’t exactly a tough one.”

He hangs his head, reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Well,” he says sheepishly. “I didn’t want you mad at me.”

She’s baffled. “What?”

“I thought if I came with you, it’d give me a chance to apologize. Elise, I- I didn’t mean what I said. I- I like the idea that you- that you’re concerned about me.”

“Why?”

He’s fully pink now, but he stands firm where he is and doesn’t look away from her face. “Because I- I care about you. Very much.”

There’s a  _ ding _ , and the sound of the elevator doors opening. Someone clears their throat, but she doesn’t care.

She’s too busy kissing Cullen.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is a Highway (Tom Cochrane) is the song they listen to on the road. I have fond memories of singing along to it version while on the road with my SO :)


	8. Traversée les frontières

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Cullen get _real_ intimate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _This chapter contains NSFW content!_  
>  Now featuring artwork by the immensely talented [Brittany](https://designfailure56.tumblr.com/) over at Hellasickart! 

  


There’s a strong, solid block of warmth against her back, an arm around her waist keeping her pressed to it. It should feel strange, but it doesn’t. She smiles into the pillow. She’d invited Cullen to her room, but they’d both been so tired. Instead, they’d showered, ordered room service, and ate tacos while watching reruns of their favorite show.

And then they’d cuddled in bed, and she’d fallen asleep on his shoulder, relishing his scent and the way she felt so _safe_ in his arms.

“Mornin’,” he places a sleepy kiss on the back of her head.

It’s the most natural thing in the world to turn around, and press her lips to his. “Sleep well?”

He has a dopey grin on his face. This close, the gold flecks in his eyes are almost glowing. “Better than I have in a long while. You?”

She snuggles up against him. He’s so _warm_. “Same.”

It’s nice, this. Something she could get used to. Lazy kisses, soft smiles, gentle touches, all while bathed in golden sunlight. Talking about nothing, and everything, as they roll out of bed. Grinning at each other in the mirror as they brush their teeth. 

“What time’s our flight?” Cullen asks.

Elise cranes her neck towards the small clock on the nightstand. “Not for another few hours.” She glances at him, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Why? Did you have something in mind?”

He takes the two steps needed to get to her. “Maybe,” he huskily drawls. His eyes are darker now, the same as they were last night in the elevator. He searches her face, waits for her slight nod before he cups the back of her neck, uses the grip to lift her face to his. “I was hoping for this.” He leans in and kisses her, and she’s immediately on her toes wanting more.

This one isn’t as sharp and passionate as their first, more a slow burn, but it’s no less deadly. Cullen nips her lip and licks into her mouth. She whines, pressing closer to him. His lips are rough but not chapped, and he tastes of mint. There’s a delicious burn where his stubble rubs against her as he leaves her lips to plant open-mouthed kisses down her jaw and neck.

Elise tilts her head to the side, offering up more of her skin to his touch. She loosens her fingers from their death grip on his t-shirt to instead slide under it, and she strokes the broad plane of his back with her hands. Her fingers might be calloused, but even so, they’re able to pick out small puckered scars, relics of bullet wounds. She makes a mental note to ask about them sometime. His mouth is at the slope of her shoulder, and she jerks when he swipes his tongue over her collarbone.

“Cullen!” she gasps, and feels him smile against her skin.

“Would you like me to stop?” he murmurs.

“ _Fuck_ no!”

He huffs a small laugh, and tugs her towards the bed. She falls backwards on the mattress, giggling, and scrambles backwards till her head hits the pillows. He crawls up, following her, covering her figure with his own. The smile he gives her is fond, _playful_ . This is a side of him she’s never seen before, and it’s quickly becoming her favorite. She reaches out for him, linking her arms around his neck, pulling him towards her. Their lips meet again, slow, indulgent. There’s no need to rush, and they both know it. He nibbles his way up her jaw, each nip of his teeth making her shudder, and sending pleasure straight to her core. When he tugs at her earlobe, she whines, squirming wantonly beneath him. “Oh, _yes,_ ” she hisses as he sucks a mark into the skin behind her ear.

Cullen, she’s fast coming to learn, is an explorer, and he’s meticulous about it. He runs his hands down her sides, his knuckles brushing against the sides of her breasts, his eyes fixed on hers as he slowly pulls the hem of her oversized nightshirt up. His fingers are rough as they stroke up her belly, leaving trails of fiery need in their wake. Her breathing is loud and hitched in the quiet of the room, broken up with the sound of her moans and whimpers.

His eyes heat up when he discovers she isn’t wearing a bra. His touch is feather light at first, caressing the undersides of her breasts, then the sides, but he’s not giving her what she wants. She squirms, and whines, and when he does finally cup her breasts in those wonderfully large, warm, calloused hands, she lets out a short, breathy gasp that turns to a needy moan when he rubs his thumbs against the now pebble-hard tips. He’s focused on her, fixed on the noises she makes and the way her hips move as they search for friction. Finally, with a low, impatient growl, he yanks at her shirt, and she raises her arms to help him pull it off. It’s barely hit the floor before his mouth’s replaced his hand, tongue circling the taut bud. She groans, and wraps a leg around his waist, trying to get him where she wants and he obliges, settling a thigh between her legs so she can rut against it. 

He moves his attention to the rest of her, placing light, open-mouthed between her breasts, down her stomach. His hands are not idle; they caress and fondle every inch of her skin. His touch is almost reverential; he makes her feel like she’s precious, something to be treasured a thing to be indulged in. She aches between her legs; she’s damp, and swollen, and she _wants_ him so badly, but he won’t let her touch him.

“Take these off,” he murmurs, pulling at the hem of her panties. He laughs at the speed at which she obeys, captures her leg before she can pull it back towards her. Her breath comes out short, hitched pants; she can’t tear her eyes off his as he kisses his way up her leg. Her muscles twitch when he nips the inside of her thigh, whimpers when he soothes the sting with his tongue. She’s positive she’s dripping, she’s certain she’s going to lose her damn mind if he keeps this up, and she’s about to tell him to _stop screwing around_ -

He runs a finger up her folds, circles the swollen bud at the top, and she chokes on whatever she was about to say. He grins knowingly at her, the scar on his lip pulled up into an incredibly self-satisfied smirk- then his tongue is where his finger was and all thoughts fly clean out of her head.

He’s - _Andraste preserve her,_ but Cullen’s got a talented mouth. Her back’s arched and she’s making sounds so lewd they’d heat her cheeks up if she was paying attention, but right now she doesn’t care. Elise tangles her fingers in his curls, fingers gripping hard, and he growls against her; the sound travels through her and she shivers. He makes himself comfortable between her legs, pulling her thighs over his shoulders, before he returns to his task. His tongue licks a stripe up her; she whimpers, begging him unashamedly for _more, more, please_. His tongue dips into her, gathering her slick, and then he strokes her again, small, tight, fast circles interspersed with slow, light ones. She can’t escape his assault; he’s got a hand across her hips keeping her pinned in place. His name is a plea, a moan, a whimper, and she’s practically sobbing it when he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks; she breaks then, shatters into fine shards with the pleasure, her thighs holding him in place as she rides her orgasm out.

When she returns to herself, he grins up at her, smug with male pride. She reaches out for him, kissing him, groaning at the taste of her on his tongue. Elise grabs weakly at his cotton t-shirt; he obeys her silent order. “These too,” she grips his boxers between her toes; he chuckles at the action, but _thank the Maker_ he listens, and then he’s pressed up next to her, skin against skin.

She moves away to better see him. He is- _Maker’s breath_ but he’s stunning. His chest is broad, and his muscles are beautifully defined. His cock rests erect and proud on his stomach - and it is _glorious_ . Elise catches her lip between her teeth - he’s bigger than anyone she’s ever been with, longer and girthier, but - _fuck it_ , she wants it _in_ her, wants to feel the way it stretches her walls and- “Oh, fuck, Cullen, please tell me you have protection?”

His eyes widen, and his face falls with dismay. She nearly screams with the disappointment she’s feeling, but she tamps it down. There are other ways to entertain herself. “That’s alright,” she gives him a reassuring smile before crawling back towards him. “I have something else in mind.”

“Are you sure, Elise?” Cullen puts a hand on her shoulder to still her. “We don’t have to- you don’t need to feel like you have to-”

“Cullen.” She draws his hand away. “I _want_ to. Believe me.”

He stares at her for a moment before nodding, leaning back against the pillows. Elise turns her attention back to his cock, wilted to half-mast thanks to the sudden shift in mood. She likes his cock, she decides, stroking from base to tip with a finger. Cullen groans, and her smile turns sly. She settles on all fours, her ass raised up high, and leans in to lightly breathe on his arousal. He twitches, growing harder with each passing second, and she takes the tip into the wet warmth of her mouth, relishing the shaky moan he gives. She mouths at him, licking, sucking, stroking her tongue around the velvet skin there; his hand comes to rest at the back of her head, but he does nothing more. She rewards his patience by swallowing him to root, the tip of him pressing against her throat. He shouts, jerking his hips, and she gags around him before she pulls back to catch her breath. Then her hand is around his base, stroking, her mouth at his tip, her free hand palming and fondling his lovely, full balls.

His body writhes on the mattress, whines escaping his lips; and though his fingers clench her hair so tight her scalp prickles, he makes no move to direct her, content to accept only what she’s willing to give. Touched, she rewards him by humming around his length, pressing her tongue against the thick vein that runs up it. She pulls back, a _pop_ as his arousal escapes her lips, then licks and sucks up the length of it. “Cullen,” she sighs dreamily before she darts her tongue out to lick the bead of liquid at the crown, and sighs again at the taste. He’s so- he fills her mouth so well, and she can feel her cunt clench with need- but this is about _him_ , not her. His tip is at the back of her throat again, and she swallows; he bites off a whimper. His thighs are clenched, his hips are thrusting shallowly into her mouth, and she knows he’s close. She slides her mouth up and down his length once, twice-

“Elise,” he croaks out a warning, “I’m-”

She takes him deeper in response, presses her tongue against the base of him. He gives out a strangled shout, his hips jerking in an attempt to bury himself as deep as he can as he spends himself down her throat. She pulls away and swallows; her throat feels a bit sore, but it’ll only serve as a reminder of Cullen.

He takes in a deep breath and exhales. “That was-” he blinks lazily at her, his smile just a little dopey, “- _amazing_. Thank you.” He’s so earnest it makes something in her belly flutter.

“You were- I-” it’s the first time she’s been caught so off-guard. There’s something about him, about the way that he’s looking at her, that makes her heart do a small little flip. “Thank _you_ ,” she says lamely, moving to cuddle up next to him. She knows she needs to clean up; hell, they probably could both use a shower - but right now, lying next to him, her head on his chest and his arm on her hip - she’s content just the way things are.

“I have a confession to make,” he murmurs into her hair.

“Oh?”

“I joined you because I didn’t want to give Rylen another chance to kiss you,” she can feel him smile against her cheek, “because I was hoping to kiss you.”

She bursts into laughter. “Were you _jealous_ , commander?”

“Mmm.” He shifts till he’s looking down at her. “Absolutely.” He kisses her again, moves his thigh between her legs. She moans against his lips, rolls her hips against his leg. She knows they’re on a time limit, but she doesn’t care.

They can always take the next flight.


	9. Tes mots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Cullen struggle with their feelings.

**POV Elise**

She’s poring over the information she’s received from Leliana, Cullen, and strangely enough, Josephine. There’s a puzzle here she intends to untangle before - well. Before her mind drifts into other, more personal matters.

Like exactly _what_ is going on between her and Cullen.

“Ugh.” A disgusted toss of her head, and she forcefully pushes aside the thought. Not now. She’s got work to do.

Elise re-reads Leliana’s brief. _Charter discovered one of our agents murdered before they could get to our base in Crestwood. It looks like the work of Venatori agents. In the last message we received from him, he stated that he had information worth ten times his weight in gold. He mentioned he was being followed, but that he’d lost his pursuers in Lydes. What’s most troubling is that only a few of my people - the ones closest to me - knew his final destination. You have to work to unmask the traitor in our midst._

She knows why Leliana’s given the task to her. The spymaster herself cannot act, or else she risks alerting the double agent. 

The threat of this mole is highly concerning. Aside from the potential damage to the Inquisition’s effort, there’s also the risk that her presence will be uncovered. It’s something she can’t afford.

She goes over the list of names Leliana’s given her. _Lace Harding, codename Scout. Sylvas Valendrian, codename Argent. Gylnora Nehnnas, codename Charter. Donovan Hicks, codename Butcher. Abernale Harish, codename Painter. Emma Reyes, codename Lark._

It’s a difficult task for her, made complicated by the fact that she’s worked with Charter and Argent before. The missions hadn’t been anything important - just minor pick up and drop offs - but it’s disconcerting to think that they could be capable of this level of betrayal.

She’s scrolling through the dossiers she’s compiled on them when the door knocks. She glances over at the monitor; the keyhole camera she’s installed shows Cullen waiting there, a bag in his hand. She glances at the time as she makes her way to the door, stunned to see that it’s close to midnight.

“Hey,” she greets him with a tired smile.

“Hey yourself.” He leans in and brushes a kiss on her forehead before walking in, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world. She’s still lost in what that means when he continues, “Haven’t seen you since the meeting at lunch. I figured you forgot about dinner.” He raises the bag up, places it on the table. “I know you tend to get lost in your work.”

There, again, is that strange fluttering in her stomach. When had he noticed-? What did it _mean_? She wants to ask, but she’s- now’s not the time, she tells herself. There’s more important things she needs to focus on, and she can’t afford to get distracted by this.

There are two BLT sandwiches and two small plastic cups of wonderfully rich soup. She frowns, just a little - just how hungry does he think she is?. He grins sheepishly, brandishing two spoons. “I, uhh. I may have forgotten to eat, too.” His expression makes her laugh. “Maker, Cullen. What a pair we make.” The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them, and as soon as she’s said it she wants to smack herself in the face. Desperate to avoid _that_ conversation, she quickly moves into the tiny kitchenette - really, it’s just a counter with a microwave, a tiny fridge, and a coffeemaker - she quietly bangs her head against the wall, out of sight, before returning to him, two bottles of water in hand.

“One of us needs to become better with time,” he quips, already settled in and digging into the food. “That way we lower the risk of accidentally starving to death.”

He thought it was a joke. There’s a teeny curl of disappointment amidst the relief she feels, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Humor, she can deal with. “Not it,” she jokes back, and bites into the sandwich.

He’s had extra bacon added to it.

She wants to cry.

It’s stupid, she acknowledges to herself as she washes her tear-stained face, to cry over extra bacon - and, to be fair to herself, she didn’t cry while he was there. But he knows she likes extra bacon in her BLT and he knows that she loses herself in work and he brings her coffee each morning when they meet because he knows she needs at least two cups of caffeine in the morning, and- she’s never had that. Ever. She’s never had it, and she thought she didn’t need it, so she’s never wanted it- but here he is, tall and handsome and strong and gentle and he’d included double chocolate chip cookies just for her and it’s all too overwhelming-

She pats her cheeks, stares up at the ceiling to prevent the tears from spilling over again. She’s better than this! _Merde_ , she’s made of stronger stuff than whatever this is. She pulls herself together, heading back to her work. There’s an idea beginning to bloom in her head, but she needs to get her job done first.

* * *

**POV Cullen**

It’s half past one in the afternoon and she still hasn’t shown up. Cullen’s getting concerned. She’s always had odd-ish hours - comes with her job, after all - but she’s never been _this_ late before. Did something happen to her? He knows she’s working on a top secret assignment, given to her by Leliana herself. He hasn’t been told much about it other than it concerns the Inquisition’s security - and going by the lack of details he can only surmise that means something to do with espionage. Maybe she’s fallen ill? There’s been a cold going around, and it’s been quite contagious-

He’s just picked up his cellphone, ready to call her, when she walks in. There are dark circles beneath her eyes, and he can smell just how concentrated the cup of coffee in her hand is, but her grin is triumphant. Relief washes over him - relief and the warmth he’s come to associate with her presence. He smiles back at her. “Another successful mission, I assume?”

He’s startled when she bounces over to his side, leans in, and kisses him. As chaste as it is, it still sets off a coil of want in his stomach - enough that when she moves away he’s tempted to reel her back in for more. It’s a soft kiss, filled with affection, and for the hundredth time he finds himself wondering what it means. 

“Yep,” she takes her usual seat, takes a sip from her cup before cradling it in both hands. “Now that it’s all wrapped up nice and tight, I have Leliana’s approval to fill you in on things. If you want, that is.”

“What was the issue? It appeared to be quite urgent.”

“It was.” She takes another sip. There’s a drop of coffee on her lower lip, and he wants to lick it off, taste it, taste _her_. “There was a double agent in Leliana’s ranks.” 

That news jolts him out of his wayward thoughts. “A double agent?” he echoes. “Who was it? How much damage did they do?”

Elise is somber as she replies, “We’ve lost a few agents, and Leliana’s still working on the scope of the damage. Still, that fucker Painter’s quite the talker. Another day or two with the nightingale and we’ll have names. The Venatori haven’t won this. They won’t.” Her voice is fierce, and her eyes flash. 

Cullen believes her. 

“How did you figure it out?”

She smirks, teeth bared. “It took a lot of work, and a lot of digging. Had a couple of my contacts put their ears out, and one of them discovered that Painter had a gambling problem. Hell, he was spotted in Kirkwall playing diamondback - and losing. If he’s losing, and he isn’t concerned about money - well, he must have multiple sources, _n’est ce pas_ ? So I poked around his financial records. I’ll give him this, he’s good at covering his trail, but when a bank account belonging to a man that’s been dead for twenty-four years suddenly has multiple large deposits into it, well, I’d say that’s a teensy bit fishy. Traced the deposits to one of the Venatori’s shell companies. I traced him to the bank’s Kirkwall location. Pulled the bank’s security footage, and caught him making withdrawals. Ta-da! Hand everything over to Leliana, and she was _pissed_.” Elise mock-shivered, and he chuckles.

“He was certainly no match for your skill.”

Elise blushes, and it’s a pretty sight. “Why, are you trying to flatter me, commander?”

“Am I succeeding? If so, then yes.”

Her eyes squint as she laughs, the sound full-bodied and whole. 

“So, I’m guessing you have the day off?” He hopes so. She looks as though she could use a whole day’s worth of sleep.

“I have a few days off, yes. And-” she shifts in her chair, uncomfortable, and she’s suddenly unable to meet his eyes. He frowns, about to ask her if there’s any problem when she continues, “Actually, Cullen, I was- that is, I thought-” She halts, takes in a deep breath to steady herself. “There’s someone I wanted you to meet. If- if that’s okay with you?”

“Of course.” His heart starts to beat harder. Was she planning to introduce him to her mother? He knows she doesn’t have a father - much like him - and that she’s close to her _maman_. “What time would you want me to-”

“Actually,” she interrupts him. Her cheeks are the color of the roses in Mia’s garden in Honnleath. “We’re going to- they’re in Markham,” she spills in a rush. 

“Markham?” he echoes dumbly. Has she mentioned Markham before? He goes over all the conversations they’ve had. No, it’s never come up, but she’s also never mentioned the place of her birth, or where she grew up, so maybe-?

The plane is a small one, a light Cessna that belongs to the Inquisition. It’s usually used by the Inquisitor, but- “Leliana wanted to thank me, after the whole Painter business,” Elise explains over the headset. “It’s ours for the next seventy two hours.” Their pilot is Anais, an Inquisition agent recruited by Josephine. She’s from the Ferelden Hinterlands, more specifically the Winterwatch region, and by the time they land he’s discovered that his sister Rosalie is a classmate of Anais’ brother George. 

Elise pulls up at a pretty bungalow, marble columns by the front door and flowering vines creeping up the walls. The scent of freshly mowed grass fills the air, there are bountiful herbs growing from window-boxes, and there’s even a cherry blossom tree in the front yard. It’s the kind of house he can see the two of them living in, someday- he shakes his head. _Where had that come from?_

She turns to him, clearly nervous. “Okay, so. You have to promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.” Her foot’s tapping up and down rapidly, too close to the gas pedal for his liking. Cullen’s glad that she’s turned the engine off. 

“Why?” he asks, bemused.

She takes in a deep breath, exhales long and slow. “Because. This is- this is Hawke’s house.”

He blinks at her. Once. Twice. He’s stunned. Finally, he finds his voice. “You brought me to _Deirdre Hawke’s house_?”

Her chin raises just the slightest bit when she answers, “Yes.”

“ _Why_?” Maker, it all comes flooding back to him now. The force of the blast that knocked him off his feet, even at that distance. The scent of blood, and smoke. The screams, merciful Andraste, all that screaming-

“Cullen.” her hand is on his thigh, and the look she’s giving him is filled with concern and pity. 

He swats her hand away. “Did you mean to torment me? Because if that was your goal, then-”

“No!” her reply is swift, vehement, and filled with hurt. “Cullen, I brought you here because- Deirdre is a scientist. She’s- she’s done a lot of research on lyrium-”

His eyes narrow. “She was never part of the University, I have never heard of any of her-”

“She didn’t do it _legally_ , obviously,” Elise explains impatiently. “But she studied it. Void’s sake she even went down to the Deep Roads to study it! She-” the woman across him shuts her eyes, exhales, then looks at him again. “Look, I’ve- I’ve spoken to her about- about, well, _you_. And she thinks she can help. I just- you have to promise me that you’ll behave, or else I’m going to kick your ass.” Beneath her breath she mutters, “Assuming Fenris doesn’t get to it first,” and Cullen’s reminded of the Champion’s partner, a formidable elf with strange tattoos that almost seemed to glow.

The look she gives him is so pleading, he doesn’t have the heart to refuse. As they make their way to the door, he asks how she knows the Champion of Kirkwall.

“Oh, I don’t go by that anymore,” the door swings open and he comes face-to-face with Hawke.

She’s- he didn’t know what to expect, but she’s- almost _softer_ somehow. Not her appearance, no - Deirdre is still as physically imposing as she always was - but there’s a lightness to her eyes and around her mouth that Cullen realizes is happiness. 

“Cullen,” Deirdre steps aside, welcomes them in, “it’s nice to see you. You too, cousin.”

He’s stunned for the second time in ten minutes. “ _Cousin_?”

“Distant cousins, but yes, we’re related,” Elise explains, still caught up in Hawke’s embrace. “Not an official Amell, though.”

“Neither am I,” Deirdre cheerfully declares. “Or Carver, for that matter.”

Elise’s eyes widen. “He’s with Merrill, then?”

Cullen vaguely remembers a waifish elven woman with wide green eyes, one of the Champion’s companions. “How is your brother?” he asks soliciticiously.

“Oh, he’s fine, he’s settled in Kirkwall.” If Hawke notices the wince he gives at the allusion to the city, she makes no mention of it. “Mother’s very unhappy with him, of course, but after Bethany got engaged to Sebastian she’s less concerned about the Amell lineage.”

He’s still recovering from the fact that Elise and Hawke are related. There’s little to connect them other than the color of their hair, a rich, luscious chocolate. Hawke’s eyes are a brilliant, blazing blue, while Elise’s remind him of the deep topaz earrings his mother used to wear.

“-but we’re boring Cullen,” he jerks up at the mention of his name, flushes when he finds both women giving him amused looks. “Shall we get down to business?”

Hawke is kind - she doesn’t comment on his lyrium use, nor does she mention anything about the events at Kirkwall. She brings out the tonic she’s created, explains what it is - it has a modified version of lyrium in it, that will reduce the withdrawal symptoms without any risk of addiction - and gives him information on dosage and timings. Her partner stops by briefly, glaring at Cullen even as he warmly greeted Elise.

He’s shrugging on his coat, waiting for Elise to return from the bathroom when Deirdre pulls him to the side. “What are your intentions with Elise?” she demands bluntly.

He feels himself turning red, but he doesn’t back down. “I- I care deeply for her.” 

Hawke searches his face, a thorough scan that leaves him feeling stripped bare. Finally, she nods, seemingly satisfied by whatever she saw. “Have you told her about Kirkwall?” she asks.

“She figured it out for herself,” he mutters.

Deirdre shakes her head. “You know that’s not what I mean. There’s only so much she can ‘figure out’ for herself. You _know_ how it was with Meredith and records.”

“Is there something you’re getting at, Hawke?”

“You need to tell her about Elaine.” She’s a lot more blunt this time. 

There’s a lead weight in the pit of his stomach at the mention of the name. He sees her in his mind, golden haired and terrified, weeping and pleading for mercy. She’d maintained her innocence right up to the very end.

“Why Elaine, specifically?” his throat is dry.

Hawke sighs, her face stoic and unreadable. “I can’t tell you _why_ . But I _can_ tell you that Elaine was important to Elise. You _have_ to tell her, Cullen. If you don’t tell Elise, I will.”

He nods tersely, saved from having to reply by Elise’s appearance.

Tomorrow, he decides. Tomorrow he’ll tell her about Elaine-

-and hope that she doesn’t hate him after he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Crestwood, Charter tells you about a missing agent called Butcher, and then later you discover his dead body. I wish we could've had more of the spy stuff (like the way Leliana tells you about the traitor agent in Haven). Anyway, here's my take on how the double agent was discovered :)


	10. L'amour, toujours l'amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise works through some ghosts from her past.

“ _ Maman? _ ” Elise stares at the slender, silver-haired woman at the doorway. “ _ Maman _ ,” she cries, and falls into her mother’s arms.

Caroline Delacourt - neé Caroline Yevven - draws her weeping daughter into the quiet of her small woodland cottage. It’s pouring outside, and Elise is drenched, soaked through to the bone. The older elven woman frowns in concern, gently guides her daughter to change before she falls ill.

Elise sits before the blazing fire, wet hair wrapped up in a towel. The plush terry robe smells of lavender and vetiver, like her mother. She stares listlessly out the window, the heavy overcast skies with the thundering rain an echo of the turmoil within her.

“Now then,  _ chérie _ ,” her mother returns from the kitchen, hands her a mug of spiced tea. The scent of the cardamom takes her back to her childhood. “What’s wrong?”

Her mind is still heavy with the weight of Cullen’s confession. “I don’t know where to start,  _ maman _ ,” she says miserably.

“Hmmm,” she can feel the look her mother’s giving her. “Is it that boy you mentioned? Did he break up with you?”

Elise laughs bitterly. “If only.”

“Come now, Eli,  _ mon chou _ . Talk to me. What is the matter? You’re beginning to worry me,  _ doudou _ .”

She sighs. “ _ Maman _ , you remember Elaine?”

“Elaine? Of course. What a lovely girl.” Caroline shakes her head. “I never thought she would get mixed up with terrorists. Such a pity. Broke her parents’ hearts, it did.”

The tears began to flow again. “It was all a lie,  _ maman _ .” She’s sniffling now, her nose dripping, and she absently wipes it on her sleeve.

“Whatever do you mean?”

It breaks free from her, the emotion, the betrayal. “Elaine was never a terrorist,  _ maman _ ,” she sobs. “She was just a student at the university. Her friends were not terrorists either. All they did-” she hiccups. “They had  _ one _ assignment with someone who later attacked some templars, and because of that, they were all accused and arrested. But they were innocent!”

Her mother’s forehead is furrowed, her brows nearly touching. “But the news- there was evidence, and witnesses-”

Elise shakes her head, her stomach roiling with disgust. “All  _ lies _ . The evidence was planted by templars. The witnesses were-” she hiccups again, blows her nose into the tissue her mother’s given her. “The witnesses were false. They were just students who had been coerced into giving false statements, on threat of being arrested. So many  _ lies _ ,  _ maman _ . So much unnecessary death. So much injustice. And Elaine-” she buries her head into the cradle of her arms and bawls. “I- should’ve- done- something-” she whispers between hitched, shaky breaths. “I should’ve-”

Her mother lets down her hair. It’s still damp, but  _ maman _ runs her fingers through it, just as she did when Elise was a child. “How did you learn this?” Caroline’s voice is quiet, measured.

“Cullen- the Inquisition’s Commander - told me. He- he was stationed in Kirkwall when it happened. He-” she can taste the salt of her tears as she speaks. “He was the one who arrested Elaine,  _ maman _ . He said he spoke at her trial. He- he found evidence, he said, there was a weapon in her room, and coded instructions on templar targets she was to kill-”

“Something changed his mind, then?”

She nods, still heartbroken. “A few months after her- after Elaine was executed, Deirdre discovered evidence that one of the templars was planting evidence to accuse both students and faculty at the university. Knight Lieutenant Otto Alrik. Cullen did some digging, and- and that’s when he discovered that Alrik was responsible for the ‘evidence’ discovered in Elaine’s room.” Her voice is hoarse and raspy from all the crying. “He took it to the Knight Commander, but there was no report filed. Nothing was done till Alrik was discovered breaking into Bethany’s room in the Hawke estate - the news said he had been attempting to kidnap Bethany, but now… “

“You think Bethany was his next target.” Her mother’s voice trembles slightly.

“It adds up. I remember hearing rumors about Meredith wanting to arrest Deirdre for killing Alrik, but then the news came out that he’d been - raping - several students, and _ then _ the templars did all they could to sweep the whole affair under the rug.” Grief gives way to rage. “He should’ve done  _ more _ . He- he must have known that not filing a report was wrong! He should’ve dug deeper, looked closer- he-” her throat clogs up.

“This is a terrible revelation indeed,  _ mon chou _ ,” when her mother finally speaks, it’s slow and careful. “I understand the grief in your heart. You’re not at all to blame, Eli. You had your own troubles at the time, you were fighting your own battles. Were Maryanne and Vernais yet alive, Maker bless their souls, they would not blame you either.” She begins to braid Elise’s hair. “But, _ ma cherié _ , why is this commander of yours to blame, and not anyone else? It seems that a great deal of the templars stationed there are at fault. Would you not think Carver is to blame? He was part of them, however brief a period it was.”

“Carver was still a recruit,  _ maman _ ,” she reminds. “Cullen was- he was part of Meredith’s inner circle. He saw a great deal, but he didn’t- I know he regrets it,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “But how could he ignore so many discrepancies? How could he excuse them?”

Caroline kisses the top of her head. “Have you asked him that?”

“He- he was on lyrium, at the time,” she admits. “It’s a drug that- the templars  _ claim _ they don’t take it, but most of them do. It’s the only way to get promoted. He says Meredith had him on three, four times the regular dose…” she trails off. She’s- her mind is fighting now, emotion against logic.

“It sounds as though he was being abused by his commanding officer, though the abuse was less obvious. Maybe the drugs were influencing his behavior?”

She mulls it over. At high doses, the dependency would have been immense. It’s certainly possible that Cullen’s mind would’ve been too fixated on the next dose to notice, or pay attention to, other details. And prolonged lyrium ingestion diminishes the brain’s ability to retain and process information - it’s also possible that Meredith could’ve lied to Cullen about the existence of a report, when he discovered Alrik’s activity. Cullen would’ve had no reason to doubt her at the time.

“It’s- I suppose it’s plausible.” She shifts, turns to face her mother. “Why are you supporting him? I thought you’d be angry.”

“I  _ am _ angry,  _ cherié _ . It incenses me to know that there are people who prey on the weak and the vulnerable. But I know you,  _ mon chou _ . I know you are a good judge of character. And when you have spoken to me about this Commander Cullen, I have heard the softness in your voice. You like him,  _ non _ ? He makes you happy, I can tell. You would not have taken him to see Deirdre if you did not.”

Elise groans. “I can’t believe she called you-”

“She was concerned for you, Eli. She called to tell me to expect your arrival, and she was right.”

“So she told you about Elaine?”

“She told me about Elaine several years ago-” at Elise’s indignant look, Caroline raised a finger to silence her, and continued, “we agreed not to tell you because we did not want you blaming yourself. You had just been demoted,  _ mon chou _ . If you had learnt of this then- Deirdre was worried, as was I, that you would act recklessly and perhaps endanger yourself.”

“Neither of you had any right to keep it from me,” she’s struggling to hide just how livid she is.

Caroline sighs. “We did what we thought was best at the time, Eli. And then you had settled into your investigative work, and I didn’t want to upset you with ghosts from the past. It seems to me that this ex-templar of yours has a conscience and good morals, if he’s working for the Inquisition. Does that not matter?”

“This was  _ Elaine _ ,  _ maman _ !” she’s aghast. “If it wasn’t for her, I would never had  _ any _ opportunity-”

“I know,  _ mon chou _ , I know. What happened to Elaine was a grave injustice indeed. But she is gone, and there is nothing we can do to bring her back. Would she not want you to honor her, Eli? Would she not want you to fight to ensure that this does not happen again?”

“She would want  _ revenge _ , mother!” Elise shouts. her jaw taut, her eyes narrowed. “She would want vengeance against those who wronged her! And Cullen wronged her!”

“Did he?” Caroline’s voice was steady, her warm toffee-colored eyes filled with understanding and wisdom. “He did not willingly take part in the conspiracy, Eli. He followed protocol, he obeyed orders. But did he  _ deliberately _ do something wrong?

There’s a long silence before she resentfully mutters, “No. No, he didn’t.”

"And those who  _ were  _ involved are dead. So who would you seek vengeance against?”

Her mother had a good point. Meredith was dead, as was Alrik. And those who had supported the Knight Commander and stood by her side had been slain- and seeing what had become of the templars in Therinfal-

“It hurts,  _ maman _ ,” she says softly.

“Ahh,  _ mon chou _ .” Her mother pulls Elise’s head into her lap, and strokes her forehead. “I know it does, my love.”

“She was so good. She would’ve laughed when I told her about Cullen. She claimed I had a type.”

“Oh? And what was that?”

She laughs fondly, and sadly, at the memory. “Blonde. Tall. Broad-shouldered.”

“I looked up this Cullen on the internet. He’s quite handsome,  _ non _ ?”

“You looked him up?” Elise starts to laugh.

“Of course! When my daughter talks about a man as many times as you have, I have to know who captured her attention.” Then, softly, Caroline adds, “Are you happy,  _ mon chou _ ?”

She knows what her mother’s  _ really _ asking, but she hasn’t figured that out yet. Cullen’s laid bare all his ugly truths, but there’s a great deal she’s still hiding from him. And that isn’t fair.

She sighs heavily. “I think I’m getting there,  _ maman _ .”

* * *

Her hand’s trembling as she raises it. Never has a door been more intimidating. Elise knocks once, twice, then waits. She can hear shuffling inside, a muted, low-pitched growl, and the door’s yanked open unceremoniously. “Jim, I told you not to disturb me-” Cullen trails off when he sees her, and his face drops from irritation to a more guarded look.

“Hey.” She licks her lips. “Can I- can I come in?”

He stares at her for a long moment, then steps aside wordlessly. Her nerves are taut. It’s been a long time since she’s felt this scared, this petrified of rejection. “Can we- we need to talk.”

“Do we?” His words, spoken so bluntly, have her wincing.

“Yes,” she owes him an apology at the very least, and she’s going to deliver it. “I- Cullen, I-” she exhales, sinks into the padded couch. It’s not very comfortable, but she doubts Cullen uses it much. “I’m sorry,” she bursts out.

He tenses. “You don’t owe me an apology,” he begins stiffly.

“Yes,” she interrupts him softly, “I do.” She pats the empty space on the couch next to her, and he sits, albeit warily. “Maker,” she says, her fingers twisting and fidgeting. “I- I don’t know where to start.” She draws in a deep breath. “Okay. First, I- I owe you an apology. For- for how I reacted, after you told me about- about Elaine. I- I’ve done some thinking… well, a lot of thinking actually,” she flashes him a weak smile, but he remains impassive. “Anyway... what- what happened to her wasn’t your fault, and- and I’m sorry I said that it was.”

“It  _ was _ my fault-” his face is still stony, but his voice betrays his pain. “You were right. I should have been more vigilant. I should have investigated deeper- Elaine had no history of trouble, no prior record. I should’ve looked into why she would suddenly turn-”

“Cullen.” it’s a gamble, but she reaches out and grips his hand. To her relief, he doesn’t pull away from the touch. “It’s not your fault. You- you were just doing your job. And- and Meredith was-” her voice raises in volume, just a little, with the rage she feels when she thinks about Kirkwall’s dead Knight Commander. “Meredith was abusing you,” she gazes directly at him, willing him to  _ listen  _ to her. “Pressuring you to take high doses of lyrium - that’s abusive. She knew what she was doing, Cullen. Deirdre says that anyone taking as much lyrium as you had in Kirkwall, it would’ve flattened them. But you- you kept going. Through it all, you tried to do your best. Yes, maybe you had your prejudices, but with your- with your past experiences, that isn’t uncommon. Meredith used your past against you. She knew that you were good, and just, and she did all she could to pull the wool over your eyes. And while it’s not fair that so many innocent people suffered for it, you stood against her the moment you realized that she was evil. That- that says a lot about who you are, Cullen Rutherford, and- and I’m sorry that I doubted your character.”

He’s silent for a long while, and when he speaks, his voice is stretched thin. “I’ve gone over it so many times, in my head,” there’s more than a little desperation in the way he speaks, “but there are so many things I can’t remember. So many gaps in my memory. If I can’t- if- I’m not suited for this position,” he stands and begins to pace up and down the small room. The movement reminds Elise of a caged lion. “If my mind won’t work correctly, if my memory’s failing- then I’m not fit to serve as Commander,” he bursts out. “I- I spoke to Cassandra,” he confesses. “Asked her to find a replacement. I won’t- I won’t fail anyone ever again-”

Alarm bubbles in her stomach, rises up her chest. She recognizes, even if he doesn’t, that this job is what’s keeping him together. Without it, she’s not sure if he’ll ever fully recover from Kinloch and Kirkwall. She rises, makes her way to where he’s facing the wall, and spins him around. “You listen to me, Cullen Rutherford,” she jabs a finger at his chest. “You listen to me, and you listen good. There is  _ no one _ better suited to serve as Commander than you,” she declares fiercely. “You are a good man, and you’ve worked harder than anyone I’ve known. You’re done your best, Cullen, and everyone around you knows it. If Cassandra replaces you, I- I’ll fight her, I swear I will. I’ll quit the Inquisition if she does!”

There’s a glimmer of a smile on his lips. “She hasn’t,” he reassures her. “She called me an idiot, and told me to get some sleep.”

“Good,” Elise huffs, still filled with that need to protect.

“The lyrium-” his face falls. “I- Elise, I don’t know if I can do it,” he says, his voice hoarse, unable to look her in the eye. “If I can’t-”

“Cullen.” She moves into his line of vision, places her hand on his cheek, never breaking his gaze. “You  _ can _ .”

“But if I-”

“ _ You can _ ,” she says again, sliding her hand around to the back of his neck and pulling him down so that their foreheads touch. “I believe in you, Cullen. I know you can.”

“Thank you,” he sounds as though he’s on the brink of tears, and when their lips meet there’s the faint taste of salt. This kiss is gentle, reassuring, reaffirming, and she can feel his relief at her return. She links both arms around his neck and stands on her tiptoes and pours all of her newly-untangled emotions into that kiss, willing them to fill him and tell him just how much she cares about him. When they break apart, he’s smiling, and she’s smiling, and he rubs his nose against her and she laughs.

“What else did you want to tell me?” The moment of comfort passes, and she’s filled with anxiety again. He senses it, and brushes a kiss on her knuckles. “You don’t have to tell me, if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“No, I- I have to,” it’s her turn to pace. “Cullen I- I haven’t been honest about- about myself.”

“It’s understandable,” he tries to soothe. She can tell he’s unsure of how to deal with her sudden change in mood. “Your job-”

“No, I-” she whirls to face him. “You’re one of the few people who’ve seen me. The  _ real _ me. I- I didn’t tell you, because- because I was worried. I- in my line of work- a disguise is always required. It’s usually the best way to protect myself. But- over the past few weeks- I- well,” she gestured to herself. “This is me.”

He smiles, slow and wide, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m honored,” he says, and she knows he means it.

“That’s not all.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and turns away from him for this next part, this most difficult confession. “I’m- I’m half elven, Cullen.”

The silence is short, and filled with confusion. “I- okay?” he sounds puzzled. “I- is that supposed to bother me?”

His response is unexpected - to say the least - and she’s flabbergasted as she turns to him. “It doesn’t bother you?”

He shrugs. “Why should it?”

“Because- because, Cullen, people aren’t exactly fond of- of elves. You know this.”

“Elise.” He shakes his head as he cups her face between his hands and smiles crookedly down at her. “I don’t care if you’re human, or elven, or qunari. You  _ might _ be a dwarf-” she smacks his chest at that, and he chuckles, “-it doesn’t matter to me. I love you just the way you are.”

“You- you love me?” she squeaks.

Cullen freezes, but it’s only for a split second. “I do,” he nods. “I- Maker’s breath, I shouldn’t have sprung that on you like that. I- Elise, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way, I-”

She kisses him.

He’s got an adorable little smirk on his face. “Does that mean you feel the same way?”

She swats his shoulder. “I love you, Cullen, stop being so smug about it.”

“Smug? I’m trying to tell myself this isn’t just a dream.” He sounds unsure, just a little bit, but it’s enough for her to reassure him by kissing him again. It’s not like she  _ enjoys  _ the feel of his lips against hers, or anything. 

Over the long hours of the night, she tells him everything. How her mother had an affair with a human, only to learn when she was pregnant that he was a noble with a family. How Caroline Yevven fled Ostwick, and moved to Savrenne. “ _ Maman _ worked as a tailor. She was- is- very talented, but-” Elise shrugs. “She was an elf, and a single mother. Work was hard to come by. So when Maryanne Delacourt asked  _ maman _ to become her personal stylist,  _ maman _ could hardly refuse.”

“Wait,” Cullen was confused. “The Delacourts took you in? I thought-”

“No,” she understood what Cullen was getting at. “Vernais - Elaine’s father - was not mine. They were good people, the Delacourts. Maryanne and my mother became very close, and- when it became clear to everyone that I was being targeted in school for my- heritage, the Delacourts offered to share their name with my mother and I.”

“It was a generous offer.”

“More than you can imagine. I took after my father, I suppose, more human than elf, but- but it helped. I changed my name, and I changed my school, and things became better. The Delacourts helped me get into the Templars,” she stares unseeingly at the rumpled duvet on the bed. “They would never have accepted me if they’d learned of my- well, you know.” Cullen nods unhappily. “I owe them a great deal. When you told me about Elaine…” she takes a deep breath in. “That’s why I reacted the way I did. We were close, growing up, until we grew up and parted ways. I know it’s not your fault, and neither is it mine, but I- I still feel guilty about what happened to her.” She gives him a half-smile. “ _ Maman _ says it will take time, but the pain will heal. I believe her.”

They talk a while more before Cullen asks the question that’s clearly been on his mind. “Forgive me if this is too intrusive, but- Elise, have you never wondered about your father?”

She’s sitting cross-legged on his bed, the duvet pulled up to her shoulders. “Oh, I figured out who he was ages ago,” she remarks breezily. “I thought about meeting him, but- well. He’s both a noble, and a politician, and I thought if I reached out to him it would make life very difficult for me and  _ maman _ . Besides, any man who can just abandon a child the way he did is not worth my time.” There’s still some bitterness in the words - some wounds, after all, never heal.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he agrees loyally. Her next words have him choking on his own tongue. 

“Jillian is my half-sister, you know.”

\----

_ He’s seated in the quiet lounge in the Chantry. To all passers-by, he appears engrossed in the book in his hand; no one notices the tiny earpiece in his ear. His fingers idly turn a page, his eyes uncaring of the words within. _

_ -Jillian is my half-sister- _

_ His face remains as neutral as it was, but he’s smiling on the inside, wide, feral.  _

_ He’s not sure yet how he’s going to use it. There are other factors he has to take into consideration. His target has, yet again, surprised him. If he plays his cards right, he has a great deal more to gain than what he initially planned for. _

_ But oh, isn’t this interesting. And oh, yes… it will suit his plans perfectly. _

\----

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is Elise's secrets all laid bare! (I love Caroline so much - I mentioned over on my Tumblr that Elise learnt how to alter/repair her own clothes from her mother). 
> 
> Side note: if you've never tried cardamom spiced tea, you're missing out!


	11. Old friends and new assignments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise travels to Antiva, and gets to see some familiar faces.

The sun drenched the cobblestone streets of the Cadija district, warming her skin. The scent of tuberose hangs in the air, sweet and cheerful and welcoming. Spring in Antiva City is a glorious thing to behold, with clear, cloudless skies and trees blooming with flowers of every color.

Elise pulls her sunglasses down to read the address on the phone screen. _Tierra y Mar on Paseo de Monera. Look for a green awning._ Looking around, she spots the tiny restaurant in a corner. She must be close to the ocean - there’s a hint of sea salt in the warm breeze.

There’s a maître d’ by the entrance, a middle-aged man with a pleasant smile and a sharpness in his eye that doesn’t quite fit the cozy, laid-back atmosphere of the café. “I’m here to meet a friend, Zevran-?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Please, this way. _Maestro_ Aranai has been expecting you.”

He’s already standing up when she approaches, his golden hair gleaming in the light of the sun. Citrine eyes meet her own, and he breaks out into a wide smile, teeth pearl-white against a beautifully tanned face. She’s aware that he’s drawing the attention of the other patrons in the café, and she doesn’t blame them. Zevran Arainai is a gorgeous specimen, tall, lean and lithe, with every pore of his skin exuding charm.

“ _Querida!_ ” he exclaims, pulling her in for a hug. She returns it eagerly.

“Zevran, _chérie,_ I’ve missed you.”

“As I have you. Come, sit.”

She moves over to where a brunette is standing. Megara Tabris is beautiful in her own right, with her chestnut brown locks, eyes that rival the crisp, clear Antivan skies, and glowing dusky skin. The two make a stunning pair, and Elise fights the urge to fidget under the attention they’re getting. “Megara, _chochotte_ . _Es un plaser verte de nuevo_.”

“ _Te he extranado, querida_.” The two women share a warm embrace. “You look like you’ve been working too hard. What have I told you about that?”

Elise laughs and takes a seat. There’s already a margarita waiting for her, and she takes a grateful sip. “Look who’s talking!”

“Indeed,” Zevran gives his wife a fond look. “I keep telling her to take a break, but there’s always one case or another that has her attention.”

Megara’s phone rings. “Speaking of attention,” she says ruefully, staring at the screen. “I believe they need me at work, _mi amor_. Is it okay if I-?”

“Of course, _mi vida._ Tomwise will drive you.” 

The brown-haired elf turns to Elise. “Whatever you’re up to, you better keep him safe, you hear me?”

Elise smiles, holds her hand up. “I swear it.” 

After the barrister leaves, Elise turns to Zevran. “You have Tomwise accompanying her everywhere? Is it anything serious?”

He knows what she means. “Nothing more so than usual, but one can never be too careful.” She understands. While Megara might have public attention, it is her husband’s activities that put her at the most risk. For Zevran Arainai is the _First Talon_ of the legendary guild The Crows, a shadow organization that all but runs Antiva. His identity is the country’s biggest secret - less than a handful of people know who he really is - and only because he takes every precaution to ensure privacy.

“Now, _querida_. How have you been? That smile on your face tells me you’ve found someone. There’s a new man in your life, yes? Leliana was dreadfully close lipped, but you will tell me, won’t you?”

Elise flushes. “It’s…” She clears her throat, lowers her voice. “His name is Cullen. Cullen Rutherford.”

“Ah, yes, the former Templar. I ran into him once or twice in Kirkwall.” He sighs wistfully. “Such a handsome man.” 

Elise smacks him on the arm, glares playfully at him. “Hands off, Arainai, he’s mine.”

The Antivan quirks a brow with almost predatory interest. “It is serious, then?”

“Zev… I love him.” She groans, dropping her face into her hands. “I have no idea what to do about it.” She lifts her head up, gives him a pleading look. “How did you deal with it?” she asks.

His face softens to a degree Elise has never seen before. “It sneaks up on you, _querida_ , slowly, by inches. Till you cannot imagine an existence without them.” His eyes hold a faraway look. “If I could go back in time-” He focuses on her once more. “You and I, _querida_ , we are used to living life as it comes, no? For years, I lived from job to job, taking pleasure where it came. And then I met Megara, and- my whole world changed.” He tilts his head to the side, examines her. “I suspect you feel the same way.”

She’s downed the rest of her margarita, and is halfway through the refill. She nods, then hiccups. 

“And does he return your feelings?”

She nods again.

“Then what is there to worry about?” He grins. 

“It’s- I- _everything_ ,” she whispers, forlorn.

Zevran signals for the check, and before long, they’re back in his apartment. It’s airy and spacious, with an abundance of natural light, and she can see traces of its occupants everywhere. This is clearly a sanctuary for the couple, a place where the rest of the world cannot invade.

“Now that we have privacy, _pobrecita_ Elise, tell me what the matter is. Why do you worry about this handsome commander of yours?”

Her heart is heavy as she tells him about Cullen’s problems with lyrium, and the insane templar she’d encountered in Therinfal. Zevran listens quietly, and patiently. When she’s done, he hums thoughtfully and leans back on the plush couch.

“ _Querida_ ,” he says at last, his voice gentle. “Love… does the strangest things to us. It makes us fearful of things - not for ourselves, no, but for those we love. For the longest time, I ran from _mi corazón_ because I was terrified that she would come to harm because of me. And I know she fears for my safety when I have work that needs to be done. You care about your commander; it is but natural that you fear for him. There is no cure for this except faith, I’m afraid.”

She laughs, but there’s a thread of unshed tears woven through it. “Why, _mon frérot_ , when did you become this soft?”

“Says the woman who sits weeping on my couch. It is a case of the pot calling the kettle black. No?”

She throws a cushion at him, and Zevran ducks, laughing. “Now, _querida_ , shall we get down to business? What has Enzo gotten himself into this time?”

In Zevran’s office, she goes over what she knows: Lord Enzo of Rialto is suspected to be working with the Venatori, aiding them with smuggling the drug red lyrium into Antiva. Zevran, being the patriotic sort he is, is clearly unhappy with the news. “This will not do,” he murmurs, his eyes hard. “I will have him disposed of.”

“If he falls, another will rise,” she points out reasonably. “If we are to take him - and the Venatori - down, we must bring their activities to light. Make the Crown aware of what they’re doing.”

Zevran hums thoughtfully. “I see what you’re getting at. _Hmmm._ Let us see what we can learn about this Lord Enzo, shall we?”

Enzo Velaquez is a minor noble, fifth in line to Prince Dominic Ruina, one of Antiva’s twelve merchant princes. A philanderer by nature, his current mistress is the opportunistic heiress Amelie Sandes.

“Enzo has a private airfield, and owns several aircrafts,” Elise is busy scanning the folder Leliana’s sent her. “That is likely how he’s transporting the drugs.”

“Well, well,” Zevran turns to her from his own reading, a mischievous grin on his face. “It appears as though Amelie has her fingers in many pies.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s not so innocent as she seems, the little Amelie. She’s assisting Enzo with his efforts, but she is also bedpartner to his royal highness, Prince Hector Campana.”

She blinks. “Prince Hector Campana? As in, _brother to the King_? As is, third in line to Antiva’s throne? 

“None other. Very, very few know this, of course. Hector does not wish to publicly associate himself with anyone lacking a title, regardless of however wealthy they may be.” 

Elise narrows her eyes. Zevran’s smile is too wide, too toothy. “You have a plan.”

“Indeed I do, _querida_ . According to tradition, Enzo will hold his annual _Cena de Gala_ , a party for Antiva’s elite, a fortnight from tomorrow. The King will be in attendance, as will many of those who hold power in Antiva. Megara has received an invitation.”

“Right,” she says, still confused.

“As host, Enzo will be distracted all evening.”

“You want me to infiltrate his mansion when the King’s going to be there? Are you mad? There will be an _insane_ amount of security!”

“Ah, but are we not agreed that we must make the Crown aware of Enzo’s nefarious activities? No, this is what I propose...”

Elise listens to Zevran’s plan; her forehead furrows as she contemplates it. “It’s a good idea,” she concedes. “But there are so many things that could go wrong, Zev.”

“Not if we prepare, _querida_. And I trust your skill.”

“Surely there must be an easier way to do this.”

Zevran sighs. “Every other option I can come up with requires time. And if this red lyrium is as dangerous and as addictive as you say it is, we cannot afford to waste any time. We must stop this operation immediately.” Zevran gives her _that_ look, the one he wears when he’s deadly serious. “I am gravely concerned. Enzo has… he and Megara have not seen eye-to-eye in the past. And while I will protect her with all that I have, if he attempts to use this red lyrium on her-” he shuts his eyes and shakes his head. “I cannot bear the thought. Please, _querida_. Assist me in this matter, and I will be in your debt.”

“Zev.” Touched, she reaches out and places her hand over his. “You know you only have to ask, _chérie_ , and I will be there. _Siempre te ayudaré._ ” She leans in, kisses his cheek gently. “ _Te amo,_ Zev _._ You know this.”

He gives her fingers a light squeeze, flashes her a tight smile. “ _Muy bien_ . Let’s bring down this _bastardo_.”

* * *

She’s in bed, but she isn’t able to fall asleep. Zevran’s plan is running through her head, and she can’t seem to stop herself from picking out all the ways it could blow up in their faces. Well, _her_ face more specifically; his role in the whole matter is mostly passive.

Sighing, she checks the time on her phone. It’s close to midnight, which means it’s about nine in Haven. She dials a number, hears it ring.

“Hello, you.” Cullen’s voice is soft. “Is everything okay?”

She sighs, and snuggles deeper into the mattress. “It is now.”

“What’s wrong?”

Elise gnaws on her lip. “It’s this mission,” she confesses in a tiny voice. “I’m- I’m worried.”

He doesn’t ask her for any details, and she doesn’t offer him any. “Is there anything I can do?” he says at last, concern ripe in his words.

“No,” she sighs again. “At least it’ll be done with soon. One way or another.”

They both know what the other way is.

“I expect you to return to me in one piece,” he says thickly.

Despite her nerves, she smiles. “Is that an order, Commander?”

“Not an order. A reminder that you have someone desperately waiting for you here.”

Elise feels her throat clog up. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she chokes out.

There’s a long silence, filled with all the things they both want to say, but can’t, not over the phone, not where there’s a chance - however small - that someone might be listening in. Finally, he speaks. “You should get some rest. It sounds as though you have a long day tomorrow.”

“Yes.” She exhales slowly. “Good night, Cullen.”

“Good luck.” And just as she’s about to hang up, it’s followed by a quiet, “Be safe.”

* * *

_El Palacio de la Luz_ is an old, historic piece of architecture that was once said to have housed the Queen Mother of Thedas, Queen Asha Subira Bahadur Campana. It is now a museum, but once a year it opens its doors at night for Lord Enzo’s _Cena de Gala_.

Elise roams the lavish, beautifully manicured lawns, tray in hand. It’s lit up by string lights and fairy lanterns, the soft lighting producing an ethereal atmosphere. Soothing music, from the several cello quartets that had been hired, fills the night. It’s a waning moon tonight, mere slivers of both Luna and Satina are high up in the sky. The women wear expensive gowns and have priceless jewels dripping from their ears, and throats, and wrists. The men sport ten-thousand-sovereign tuxes, their artisan crafted colognes tickling her nose, nearly making Elise sneeze.

She circles the crowd once, then again, offering flutes of champagne to guests who ignore her existence. Dressed in the waiter’s uniform, she’s all but invisible. She retreats to the safety of the shadows when Lord Enzo takes to the raised platform that serves as a stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Elise has to admit that Enzo is a rakishly handsome man. Raven black hair with a widow’s peak, deep brown eyes, and golden skin, he has an aura of carefreeness about him. She spots Amelie in the crowd, sporting the red dress _sans_ straps she’d had specially tailored just for this occasion. The diamonds in her ears, Elise estimates are about five carats each. A bit garish - in her opinion, anyway - but there was no accounting for taste.

Enzo’s speech - ironically about philanthropy for the benefit of the country - is short, but gathers a great deal of applause. Once he’s left the platform, the music changes, the guests moving to the dancefloor. It’s too suspicious for her to remain here, so she heads into the makeshift kitchen, where the caterers are beginning to set up the lavish spread in the great hall. There are all kinds of hors d’oeuvres, canapes, antipasto, bruschetta, lettuce wraps, crudites. There are a dozen types of whiskey alone. The dessert options are beyond decadent. Her stomach rumbles, reminding her that she’s only had a sandwich to eat all day. Her appetite had vanished, thanks to nerves, but it appears to be back.

One of the other waiters hears the sound, and chuckles. Elise shrugs sheepishly. “Go on,” the waiter says, inclining his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Go get something to eat. Sounds like you could use it.”

“Thanks,” she gives him a grateful smile, and leaves. It’s excellent timing - her tiny, well-hidden earpiece crackles to life. 

“ _Querida_ , I have it.”

She grabs a plate of food from the harried chef, and heads towards the small staff breakroom. It’s a few minutes’ detour to where Zev’s waiting for her. She pockets the thin bracelet, and he vanishes; she goes to establish her alibi. 

It’s a quarter past eleven when Zevran contacts her again. “It’s time,” he breathes. “Target has just left the hall. Hector Campana is missing as well.”

That’s her cue. Elise pulls up the video feed onto her phone, and switches it from live to a loop. It would be noticed - eventually - but it gives her the time she needs. She moves to a disused restroom where she’s stashed her supplies. The red dress she slips into is an exact replica of the one Amelie is wearing. Josephine’s contact, Madame de Fer, was able to procure the design in time for Caroline Delacourt to tailor it. The wig comes next, a long, straightened waterfall of blonde falling to the small of her back. She slips the mask on, an elaborate filigree one studded with crystals. The necklace is embedded with cubic zirconia, but they look like diamonds from a distance. She slicks on the red lipstick, applies a second coat of mascara, and staring back at her in the mirror is a near-dupe of Amelie Sandes.

There’s a raw, jagged tangle of nerves in her stomach when she walks out in six inch heels. She makes her way towards the security guards by the door, discreet as they are in their black trousers and matching coat. “I have business to attend to,” she sniffs haughtily in the manner of the heiress, pleased that the voice modulator embedded in the necklace is working well. “See to it that I’m not disturbed.”

“Of course, Ms. Sandes,” they murmur in unison.

Elise walks out of the door, ensuring that the outdoor cameras capture the back of her form. She makes her way to the apartment complex opposite the palace, once again taking care to appear on the security feed. Once she’s in the building, she disables the cameras, and makes her way up to the apartment that’s been rented under the name of one of Enzo’s shell companies. She unlocks the door, leaving no fingerprints behind, and goes to the window, where the sniper rifle’s already set up. It’s her own beloved PSG-1, modded for ultra long-range. She moves her eye to the scope, searches for the King of Antiva, Augusto Campana. She spots him; he’s a smart man, and is staying away from the windows. It’s a tight shot, but she’s not here to assassinate him.

“I’m in place,” she mutters into the miniscule headset.

She watches everything through her scope. Amelie hasn’t returned from her tryst with the Prince, and Enzo seems unaware of her absence. The King is milling around, mingling with the guests. One of the guests talking to Enzo says something that results in a tight smile from the host, and Enzo starts to look around.

“It’s time.” Zevran’s voice is terse.

“Counting down,” she warns, placing her finger on the trigger. “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. _Now!_ ” she presses the trigger. There’s a loud click, and a soft hiss as the bullet leaves the barrel. 

In the hall, Zevran shouts a warning, and jumps on the King, pushing him down to the ground. The bullet hits the punch bowl, shattering it. The guests scream and start to scatter, and the King’s guards move into action. Satisfied, Elise drops the bracelet Zevran had pilfered from Amelie - when he’d been dancing with the heiress - and packs her rifle, leaving it in the closet where Zev’s men will pick it up. She walks out of the building, and sneaks back into the palace, resetting and re-arming the video feed. It’s a bit more work changing back into her waitress uniform, but this isn’t her first time working with disguises. It’s with a heavy pang that she deposits the red dress into the furnace - it really is a gorgeous creation, but alas, she has to leave no evidence. A few minutes later she’s milling around with the other waiters, none of whom have noticed her absence, and she’s with them when their statements are given. No one suspects a thing; after all, she has about twenty people who swear she was with them the entire time.

Two hours later, she’s in her hotel room. Her nerves are a mess.

She doesn’t know if the plan’s worked.

* * *

_Breaking news: Lord Enzo Velaquez and heiress Amelie Sandes have been arrested for the attempted assassination of King Augusto Campana. Footage from the Cena de Gala shows Amelie leaving El Palacio de la Luz, and she was later spotted at a nearby apartment complex. The heiress’ bracelet was discovered in an apartment room rented to a company owned by Lord Enzo, and investigators discovered gunpowder residue on the windowsill. Ms. Sandes protests her innocence, but La Oficina de Investigación have matched the red dress in the video evidence as the one specially tailored for Ms. Sandes. That, combined with the heiress’ inability to provide an alternate explanation for her temporary absence during the Gala, are said to be overwhelming evidence of her involvement._

\----

_Breaking news: Investigations into Lord Enzo Velaquez after his attempt at assassinating King Augusto Campana have revealed that he was involved with the terrorist group, the Venatori. Officials from La Oficina de Investigación say that Lord Enzo was attempting to smuggle the drug red lyrium into the country. The drug is said to be highly addictive, and incredibly dangerous. Lord Enzo’s shipments have been seized, and marked for destruction. Officers from the Secret Service are purported to be working with the Inquisition in hunting down other Venatori agents within the country._

_\----_

_Breaking news: A fast-track court has sentenced Lord Enzo Velaquez and his fiancee, Amelie Sanders, to life in prison with no possibility of parole for the attempted assassination of his royal highness, King Augusto Campana. Ms. Sandes has attempted to claim that she was involved in an illicit relationship with Prince Hector Campana, and that a tryst with the Prince was the reason for her temporary absence during the Cena de Gala. Prince Hector Campana has dismissed the claims, calling Ms. Sandes "a desperate liar"._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to experiment with something new. Elise's mission - the process and the outcome - has been told in a rather indirect way, and I hope that it's understandable and makes sense.  
> Lord Enzo's mission in the war table is the one that introduces Zevran into the game, and I always thought it was quite a pity we never got the chance to do a mission alongside him (Hawke gets a chance to meet Zevran, why can't my Inquisitor??!)


	12. It's only you on my mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen and Elise spend time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This chapter contains NSFW content!_

She’s been in Skyhold three days after returning from her last mission, and already Elise is distracted. He presses a kiss to her neck, and reads the tablet over her shoulder.

_...after investigation, your suspicions were correct. The mercenaries were bought and paid for by Duke Antoine himself. It’s unclear what caused the Duke to turn against the Inquisition, but he has a private agenda even though he fully supports us in the public eye. Furthermore, several of the Duke’s most vocal opponents have been afflicted by a strange new plague - but the symptoms match those of red lyrium ingestion. We have to act quickly - Wycome is in trouble... _

“New assignment?” he sighs.

“Yes.” She places the tablet down on the bed and turns, giving him an apologetic kiss.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Soon. Two, three days tops.”

He sighs again. “You just came back.”

“I know.” She kisses him again. “But Leliana’s determined to get her money’s worth from me,” she grins lopsidedly.

Cullen’s heart clenches. He still hasn’t forgotten the anxiety in her voice when she called him, that cold feeling in his chest at the implication of  _ one way or another _ .

She’s watching him closely; he can feel his gaze on her. “Cullen,” she says. “This is my job.”

“I know.” He knows she’s fully capable of taking care of herself. He knows she’s worked many missions before. Andraste’s tears, he hadn’t felt this way when she was new to him, but now - now that he knows he loves her, and she loves him - he can’t seem to stop worrying. “I- I worry about you.”

Her face softens. “I know,  _ mon coeur. _ ”

“You don’t-” he tries to explain, but he’s lost for words. “You’re- you’re always on a mission, and sometimes I don’t hear from you - and I understand why, but- but the silence, it’s… it can be terrifying.”

She wraps herself around him. “I get it, Cullen.” She pulls back, lips trembling at some memory. “That week, after Haven was attacked, and I didn’t hear anything from you- that was the worst week of my life, and I’m not saying it lightly.” She tilts her head back to look up at him. “What we do is dangerous, my love.  _ Peut être aujourd’hui _ I am more at risk, but who knows what tomorrow will bring? Would it not be better to celebrate that we are here together for now?”

She’s right - he knows she is, and yet it’s not enough for him. His hands rest on her hips; he presses his forehead to hers. “I was- I was hoping for time with you.” he confesses. “Just the two of us.”

“Ah,  _ chérie _ , me too.” 

“It’s frustrating. You’re out travelling so much, and- and I want more than just the phone calls and the emails, darling. I- I want to be able to touch you, to kiss you. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want-” He shuts his eyes, inhales on a count of five, reminds himself to be grateful for the small things. They’re in the middle of something important, and she doesn’t need to feel guilty about something beyond their control. “But we have tonight,” he flashes her a crooked smile.

Her eyes brighten, turn mischievous. “We do have tonight.”

Cullen can't help the groan that escapes him at the implication coating the words. He leans in and captures her lips. “No more work?”

She huffs a laugh against his mouth. “No more work tonight,” she agrees.

It’s a good thing she’s got her arms linked around his neck because he sweeps her off her feet, carrying her bridal-style up the stairs to the small room that serves as his bedroom. She’s so small in his arms, feels so fragile, but he knows she’s capable of holding her own. There’s a moment of embarrassment when he enters his spartanly furnished room - Maker knows the only concession to luxury he’s afforded himself is the 1000-count orlesian cotton sheets that  _ she’d _ gotten for him. But her gaze is fixed on him, that wide smile on her face, and suddenly none of those other things matter. 

She’s the only thing that does.

He deposits her on the bed, slowly, gently, before climbing in next to her.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she catches her lip between her teeth, tilts her head to the side, her eyes smouldering with something wicked.

The sight makes him groan, makes him think about kissing her till those lips are pink and swollen. “Perhaps.” His voice is husky as he leans in towards her. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” she purrs. “And me.”

“Funny, I was just thinking the same thing.” He kisses her then, soft, affectionate. 

“Cullen.” She pulls away, breathless. “Tell me you’re prepared-” He swallows that bubble of laughter in his throat, and nods. He reaches over to his nightstand, pulls open a drawer, and takes out a condom.

She lets out a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank the Maker.” It’s a sentiment he agrees with wholeheartedly.

They undress each other, without hurry. He kisses down the slope of her newly exposed shoulder, nips the hollow of her throat. They have time to spare, at least this night, and he wants to memorize all of her. Her touch is feather light, but leaves his skin burning. 

She tastes like home, he thinks. Like everything he’s never known he wanted. He runs his tongue over the freckles on her chest, kisses that tiny mole under her breast. He knows she’s self-conscious about her breasts - she’s called them too small - but to him, they’re perfect. They fit so perfectly in his hands. He takes one rosy nipple into his mouth, strokes it to a peak with his tongue, revelling in the sounds she’s making.

“Cullen!” she gasps out.

He lifts his head, gives her a lazy smile. “Yes?”

“Please, don’t tease.” She’s got one dainty foot on his shoulder, and is trying to push him down.

He chuckles softly. “In good time, my darling. Be patient.” He returns to his task, using his mouth and his hands on her breasts, stroking, fondling, squeezing, rolling her now-hardened nipples between his fingers, sliding his tongue around them, stilling her when she tries to shift against him.

She’s half-mewling, half-cursing his name when he moves down to the juncture of her thighs. She’s so aroused her slick is coating the inside of her thighs, the curls at her apex soaked.

“Cullen,” she whines. “More.  _ Please _ .”

She’s so beautiful like this, skin flushed red, eyes half-lidded and heavy with need, and he stares at her for several seconds, taking her in, committing this view of her to memory. When she moves her hand to where she’s aching, he bats it away. She whines again.

He takes pity on her, two fingers running up her folds, coating themselves in her slick, before he reaches her clit. He rubs light little circles around it, watching her face as he takes her higher and higher. She’s got her arms over her head, fingers tightly gripping the pillow. Her eyes are shut, and her mouth is hanging open, as though she’s struggling to draw in breath.

She moans his name, the end dissolving into a sob when he slides two fingers into her cunt. She’s so tight, so  _ hot _ , he wants to stop and bury himself in her instead - but he takes in a deep breath, centers himself, and continues with his task. He searches for the bundle of nerves within her walls, and when he finds it, she shrieks. It doesn’t take long before she’s working her hips to match the rhythm of his fingers. He leans in and captures a nipple between his teeth, and tugs lightly. That’s enough to tip her over the edge, and he swallows at the feeling of her cunt fluttering around his fingers.

Cullen works her through her orgasm before moving to sit back on his haunches. She’s breathing heavily through her mouth, her gaze on him, her head limp where it rests on the pillow. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he sucks his fingers clean of her wet, not once breaking eye contact. The hitch in her breath tells him that she approves. He smirks.

Now that he’s not focusing on her, he can feel his cock heavy against his stomach. He wraps a hand around it - his palm is still covered in her slick - and strokes it. His head falls back and he moans at how sensitive he is - when was the last time he’d been  _ this _ desperate?

One moment, he’s lost in sensation, and the next, he finds himself pinned beneath Elise. She’s straddling his hips, his cock nestled between her folds-  _ Maker _ , but she’s so warm, and wet, and he isn’t even  _ in _ her yet!

“Elise,” he groans.

“Yes?” he can hear the mischief in her tone, and he knows this is payback. 

“Please,” he begs. “I need you. I need you so much.”

She’s far kinder than he was - or maybe she needs him just as badly. Either way, he moans, long and loud, when she rolls the condom onto his cock. Her warm brown eyes - those are  _ her _ eyes, and that’s  _ her _ chocolate hair, it’s all her, only her, no veils between them in this moment - meet his. She strokes him once, twice, and then they cry out in unison as she takes him in.  She’s wet and warm and so, so good, and when he’s fully hilted in her there’s a moment where he’s afraid it might end too soon. But she gives them a moment to adjust, and he’s glad for it - the roaring need in his veins recedes, just a little, but enough. Then she starts to move, her hips rolling against his, her hands on his chest for balance - and  _ he’s _ the one making those whimpers and whines now.

He forces himself to look at her. Her head’s thrown back, eyes shut, and she makes a mewling gasp each time he’s fully sheathed within her. Impulsively, he slides a hand into her hair and tugs - and when her walls clench around him he knows she likes it.

“You like that?” he asks, his voice raspy.

She stills, bites her lip when she looks at him. “Yes.”

Cullen smiles, bucks up into her, pulls her hair harder. A gush of slick pours from her, anointing her thighs and his.

He rolls them over in a fluid motion, still buried within her. Cullen uses his free hand to bring her leg up to his shoulder, spreading her further. Using his grip on her hair, he tilts her head back, and starts to thrust, jaw clenched as he tries to keep his release at bay. 

She’s getting close - he can feel in it the way she’s moving her hips, in the way her eyes are scrunched up, in the way her body feels tighter, her muscles tensed. He buries himself into her, once, twice- and then she’s shattering under him,  _ around _ him, her cunt so tight around his cock - and  _ Maker _ but her heat is perfection, and he follows her over the edge, her name a harsh, guttural groan spilling from his lips even as he spills into her. 

Exhausted and trembling, he pulls out of her, moving to her side before he collapses onto the mattress. His heart’s still racing, and his skin feels chilled where the sweat’s gathered. With effort, he turns to look at her. Elise’s eyes are still shut, and for a moment he’s worried he’s hurt her. Then she’s looking at him, her gaze liquid amber and filled with warm affection.

“I love you, Cullen,” she murmurs.

“I love you, Elise.” He waits to catch his breath before rolling off the bed. He disposes of the used condom, and cleans himself up, before returning back to the bed, damp cloth in hand. She hisses lightly when he wipes her clean - he stills and looks at her, worried. “Are you- did I hurt you?”

She raises herself on her elbows, grins at him. “I haven’t been fucked so well in… well,  _ ever _ ,” she teases. He flushes, caught between embarrassment and pride. “You didn’t hurt me,  _ chérie _ ,” she reassures him. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.”

“You’re sure?”

“I promise. Stop worrying.”

Cullen completes his task before returning to lie next to her. She shifts, tucking her head into the shoulder. Her eyes are still bright, honey-bright just for him.

Pulling the sheet over the both of them, he wraps his arm over her form. Her breathing’s evened out, and when he checks he finds her asleep.

He kisses the top of her head, settles in, and shuts his eyes. There’s still work to be done, but tonight she’s in his arms, and he’ll wake up to her tomorrow.

It’s enough for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, the last time they got together they were a bit cheated, right? I had to make it up to them :))


	13. Tangled threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise finds her new partner rather... strange.

The coffee is hot, burnt, and overly bitter, and it nearly sears off a layer from her tongue, but Elise is too focused to care. Her eyes scan the screen, quickly skimming through the document. There are so many emails she needs to trawl through, so many correspondances.

“There are many references to a Dalish clan,” she comments off-hand to the man on the other side of the room. “You know more about the elves than I do, Solas - do you think it’s possible they’re involved?”

He clears his throat. “My knowledge on the Dalish is limited,” she can feel him standing behind her now. “But I do not believe they are involved with the Venatori. At worst, they are unwitting conspirators. My guess is that they are being set up by this Duke Antoine to serve as scapegoats.”

“Hmmm.” She leans back, and mulls it over. It does make sense. The Duke is up to something in Wycome, that much is clear. What’s unclear is just  _ how _ he’s poisoning his opponents with red lyrium. From the Inquisition’s research into the drug, Elise knows that it has to be ingested in order for it to be effective. 

“What do we know about the symptoms of red lyrium?” she asks out loud.

The elven hacker takes it for the brainstorming session she means it to be. “Initial stages, it causes rashes, pustules and blisters. In later stages, it creates paranoia and increased aggression and reduces activity in the prefrontal cortex. In its final stages, it disrupts synaptical activity, renders the user susceptible to even the smallest suggestion. User starts to secrete the drug in body fluids. In the final stages, user is capable of transmitting red lyrium to others.”

“So, by infecting his opponents, Antoine kills two birds with one stone. He will get control over his rivals,  _ and _ use them to spread the drug.” She drums her fingers on the table. “But if he’s already infecting his rivals, why does he need the dalish?”

“Someone will have to take the fall for the appearance of the plague,” Solas points out. “Given that the duke’s rivals are all human-”

“He diverts attention from the red lyrium by shifting blame onto the elves.” She exhales. “Fuck.”

“Elves make a convenient target,” he remarks, sounding more than a little bitter.

She doesn’t blame him. She knows first hand, just how true it is. 

“But why Clan Lavellan,” she mutters to herself. “Why not the elves within the city?” She pulls up a map of the city and the surrounding area. “Clan Lavellan is here,” she marks a spot in the forests outside the city. “How do they tie in with the poisoning?” Her head’s tilted as she examines the map. The answer is there, she knows it - she just can’t see it yet.

“They’re close to the river, are they not?” Solas reaches over her shoulder and traces one of the branches of the Minanter river. “This one goes straight into Wycome.”

Elise sits up in her chair. Her shoulder tingles where it brushes Solas’ arm. “That’s it!” she breathes. Typing in a few words into the search engine, she brings up a map of Wycome’s neighborhoods and its water supply. “The duke is a clever, clever man,” she murmurs. “And a treacherous one. Look, all of his poisoned rivals live in this neighborhood,” she draws a circle in the southern part of the city. “And this region is supplied by this distributary. And upstream of  _ that _ distributary-”

“Are the Dalish.” Elise looks up to find Solas’ brows drawn together, his lips thinned out in anger.

“He’s going to poison the entire city,” she breathes out in dawning horror. “He’s going to use the water supply to do it, and pin the blame on the dalish!”

“We have to stop him.” She’s never heard Solas sound this infuriated. “I will inform Leliana.”

“You do that. I’m going to keep digging to see what I can get.” She turns, grips his forearm, gives it a gentle squeeze. “We’ll stop him, Solas. I promise.”

His eyes are unreadable, but the smile he gives her is soft, and grateful. “I have no doubt you will,  _ lethallin _ .”

She cracks her knuckles, takes another swig of coffee, and gets down to work. There is no way she’s going to let the elves suffer. Stopping the duke has just become personal.

Solas returns after an hour. He looks tired, but he says nothing as he hands her another cup of coffee, which she takes gratefully.

“How do you stay awake?” Elise blows on the hot liquid before taking a sip. “I’ve never seen you have either coffee or tea.”

He smirks. “There are other sources of caffeine.” He moves to his chair, settles in. “But forcing myself to remain awake is not my preferred way of working.”

“What is, then?”

“As you might know, elves do not require as much sleep as humans do. I take frequent short naps to refresh and recharge myself. It keeps my mind clear and helps me focus.”

Why would he think she knew about elves? Something feels off. “Huh, I didn’t know that.” she tries to keep her tone casual. “Why would you think I did?”

“Hmm?” He’s got his attention on his screen, but he answers. “Oh, it was an assumption. I believed, given your experience- it appears I was wrong. I apologize.”

It’s not an unreasonable assumption, but still. There’s something there…. Right? Elise sighs, shakes her head, stares ruefully at the coffee. She’s overcaffeinated, and it’s making her paranoid. 

It takes several days, but they uncover the identities of the Venatori agents in Wycome. Several of them are minor nobles, angling for more power, while the rest belong to Antoine’s retinue. Elise has no idea how the Inquisition plans to deal with the situation - it’s going to be difficult, given how the people involved in the plot also command the city’s defenses. But it’s out of her hands now, and into Cullen’s - which is why she’s eating dinner all by herself in the Inquisition’s cafeteria. 

“May I join you?” She still has food in her mouth, so she nods. Solas takes the seat across from her. She watches as he delicately tucks the napkin into the collar of his shirt. “I’m surprised to find you here.”

“Huh?”

“You do not usually partake your meals here,” he explains. “Or at least, I have not seen you in the cafeteria at this time before.”

“Ah.” It feels strange to drink water after all the coffee of the past few days, but it’s for the health of her stomach. All that caffeine has left it an acidic mess. “Yeah, I usually like to eat in my room.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “Force of habit?”

“That is… understandable.” He tucks into his meal, eating with the same kind of careful, measured precision she’s come to associate with him. 

“So, Solas.” She tilts her head, observes him. This close, she can admire his unusual beauty - those mesmerising blue-grey eyes, the sharp jaw, the lush mouth. He’s the kind of man her mother would have chosen for her, if she could have. “Got any plans once this job with the Inquisition is done?”

He dabs at his mouth before replying. “I have a few friends who are interested in starting an organization for elves.”

“That sounds interesting. What would your purpose be?”

“Well,” his eyes have her pinned in place. “We hope to uplift the elves, through- education, and training. Eventually,” he shrugs, “I hope that we can work towards changing existing legislation. The world as it is, is not favorable to ou- my kind.”

“That’s an admirable goal. I’m not sure if I would qualify to join such an organization, but I’d be more than happy to help.”

“Your assistance would be greatly welcome, Elise.” The smile on his face is peculiarly tender.

It makes her uncomfortable, so she switches subjects, eventually getting drawn into a conversation about scripts and bots.

She thinks about that conversation as she lies in bed that night. Had Solas meant to say  _ our _ kind, or had it just been her imagination?

\----

“Are you comfortable?” Elise asks. Though she speaks softly, the words feel loud in the silent darkness of the room.

“I am,” is Solas’ calm reply.

They’re in the servant’s quarters in Denerim Palace, thanks to a request made to the Inquisition by the King of Ferelden himself. His royal highness Alistair Theirin suspects Venatori in his midst, and her job - with Solas’ help - is to identify and eliminate them.

Leliana had been  _ very _ serious during the meeting.

Which is why she and Solas are sharing a room. It’s meant to be a part of their cover - the two of them are posing as a married couple, working in the palace. She’s been employed as a housekeeper, while Solas has been working in the kitchens. It had been quite a surprise to learn that the quiet elf was talented at cooking. Elise had swooned over the mushroom risotto he’d made the first night- smooth and creamy, flavored with just a touch of truffle oil.

She sighs. Their sleeping arrangements were… awkward, to say the least. Solas, ever the gentleman, has taken to sleeping on the floor while giving her the bed.  _ This is silly. _ The bed was big enough for the both of them. There is no reason for him to be uncomfortable. And she’s sure Cullen would understand - he trusts her. 

“Solas, we can share the bed.” Elise hears him shift, watches as he reaches up to flick the switch. She blinks, to accustomize to the sudden bright light. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I would not want to infringe on your relationship with the Commander.”

She sits up, the blanket falling to her waist. “How did you-?” she demands.

“I saw the Commander leave your room late one evening,” his eyes twinkle. “He looked- well, it was quite obvious what he’d engaged in.”

She groans. “Great. Just. Fucking. Great.”

“I’ve told no one,” he reassures her. “And neither will I. You can be assured of my discretion.”

“Thanks, Solas.” Apparently, her feelings for Cullen are making her sloppy. Then again, she’s never been in this kind of situation before, so… “It’s fine, we can share the bed. I’ll put a pillow between us, and divide the space.”

He laughs. It’s a melodious sound. “Is that for my benefit, or yours?” he teases, but he waits for her to arrange things before sliding into the unoccupied side of the mattress. “Thank you,” he says gratefully. “The floor was rather cold.”

“Oh, you should have said something,” she’s dismayed. She doesn’t want him to suffer on her behalf.

He waves it off. “I would have managed. But I admit, this is better.” 

She ignores the slow roll of her stomach. There’s attraction here between them, but her heart’s already with someone else. “Good night, Solas.”

“ _ On nydha, lethallan _ .” His voice is deep and warm. 

Solas’ light, gentle snores tells Elise he’s fallen asleep, but she can’t seem to. She lies there stiff and uncertain. Of late, it feels as though the elf has been paying her more attention than usual, and she can’t figure out why.  _ He’s just being friendly. Why should he have an ulterior motive? You are, for all intents and purposes, coworkers after all. Stop being so paranoid. _ It takes her a while, but she eventually drifts off into sleep, her mind filled with thoughts of Cullen. 

It takes them a week to get familiar with the palace routine. Elise is routinely exhausted, having to wake at four each morning to do the cleaning. She’s always been more of a night owl. Solas seems to fare better; he’s taken to shaking her awake each morning, after that disastrous second day where she accidentally turned off her alarm and showed up extremely late for work. She yawns, giving the elf a bleary smile when he hands her an extra large cup of coffee.

It’s their “day off”, but in reality they’re here at the Gnawed Noble to discuss what they’ve learned so far. Elise is fairly certain she knows who the Venatori agents are, but she wants to go over all the information together. They can’t afford to be careless - one wrong move, one false accusation, and the Venatori will be alerted and scatter, forever lost to the winds.

“I believe I may know the identities of the Venatori agents,” he begins without preamble. She nods when he lists off the names of four of the kitchen staff. Raydon, Niora, Tillor and Lauren are the newest additions - apart from her and Solas - to the staff. For all their purported prior experience, they’ve botched more tasks than anyone else. They keep routinely vanishing, and though they claim to be in their rooms, Elise has never once found them there. That had been enough for her to bug their phones. Sure enough, their communications indicate, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they are Venatori agents. They’ve been sent to poison the King and Queen with red lyrium.

“Do we know where this red lyrium is?” Elise asks.

Solas searches through his notes. “It’s scheduled to arrive on a Nevarran ship a week from today,” he states. “The  _ Galliot _ .”

“The captain of that ship is a Vint,” she mutters. “Another agent, no doubt. What the fuck are the Venatori offering all these people, that they would so willingly help them?”

“Ideals can be a powerful motive,” Solas looks at her. “The Venatori have sold them a belief - that with their help, they can restore Tevinter to its former glory. That with their assistance, Tevinter shall once again rule all of Thedas. They are fanatics, who believe in that dream. Nothing will sway them from it.”

Elise snorts. “I wonder if they’d be so willing if they knew the entirety of Tevinter’s past. Do these fools truly believe that going back to times of rampant slavery, human sacrifice, and an unjust, inequal caste system is better than what they have now? Sure, things might not be completely equal, but it’s a step in the right direction at least.” She notices Solas go still. “Are you okay?”

“I-” his lips pull upwards in a terse smile. “It’s an interesting point of view. I had not- it had not occurred to me.” He inclines his head thoughtfully. “And what are your thoughts on the elves?”

“Well,” she takes a large sip, and sighs at the taste. This is some very good coffee. “I think that- well, obviously the world as it is is unfair towards the elves. We both know that.” Solas hums affirmatively. “Is there any point in dwelling on the past? It’s gone by, and we can’t go back to it.” She takes another sip. “And honestly, how do we really know whether things were better in the past? Not much of elven history remains-”

“Most of it destroyed by the humans,” he interjects with heat.

“Not that I’m discounting the atrocities committed by the humans against the elven people,” she says cautiously, trying to assess his mood. “What’s done is done. Is it better to carry the resentment from the past and have it taint the future, or is it better to teach those who come after us to be better?”

His eyes are piercing, almost glowing a bright silver. Then he takes a deep breath, shuts his eyes, and exhales. When he looks at her again he’s calm. “I apologize,” he gives her a small smile. “As you can tell, I am- passionate about o- my people.”

“I understand.” She kind of does, but also can’t quite make out the shift in his mood. What had been going through his mind? “It’s not a bad thing to care.”

“No, it’s not,” he’s still giving her that same strange look. “But we have other matters to focus on at the moment. It is imperative we stop the Venatori.”

“Right. Well, so let’s see. The red lyrium shipment arrives Wednesday next week, right? It’ll be unloaded over the weekend. And the weekend following that is a state dinner held in the Palace. So-”

“The targets are not just the King and Queen, but all of Ferelden’s most powerful people.”

“Exactly. That’s why they’re working in the kitchens - it’s easier to poison everything. And since it’ll take a day or two for the symptoms to kick in, it won’t be easily noticed.”

“Were you able to identify the handlers?” he asks, his fingers busy typing up a report.

“Of course,” she’s more than a little offended. “I’ve traced them back to Skyhold.”

“Skyhold?” his brows raise. “That is not good news.”

“No, but Leliana’s aware of it. She’s been aware of it for some time now.”

“Ah. She intends to use them to trace the line upwards.” His lips quirk. “Clever.”

“It is.” She cracks her fingers. “Now, shall we set about thwarting these foolish, foolish Vints?”

\----

She lifts her glass, clinks it against his. “Here’s to saving the King and Queen, like the heroes we are!”

Solas laughs. “It was a bracing fight indeed. Remind me never to cross you when you have a shotgun in your hands!”

Elise grins. The beer’s just the right level of cold, just the right amount of hoppy. Leliana’s told her it comes from the King’s private reserves. “You’re not so bad with a pistol yourself. Where’d you learn to shoot like that?”

“Oh, I was cocky and hot-headed when I was younger.” He doesn’t elaborate, and she doesn’t press him. They’re both entitled to their secrets after all.

“Weren’t we all?” she taps her glass against his.

“I believe the Commander is on his way here,” Solas murmurs. “I will see you later, Elise.” He leaves, taking his glass with him, before she can say a word. She frowns. What was up with that? It doesn’t matter though, because Cullen’s by her side a few seconds later, and he’s kissing her and taking her breath away with it. Being around him fills her with that sweetness she’s come to realize is his, and his alone. 

She smiles up at him, wide and warm, pulls his head down so she can kiss him again.

“What was that for?” he asks, sitting next to her.

“I missed you,” she says simply, and leans against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this doesn't prove I'm (usually) a Solasmancer... *facepalms*


	14. C'est un travail difficile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise works on tracking the Venatori stronghold.

_ Lionheart, _

_ Venatori base in Val Royeaux identified. Latitude 714.89409 longitude 538.46231. Armed forces present. Please advice re: next course of action. _

_ Robin _

_ Robin, _

_ Infiltrate out of sight. Recover data. Lionheart sending reinforcements, ETA 96 hours. _

_ Nightingale _

The house had been only recently occupied. Elise can tell from the abundant weeds that poke through the cracked tiles of the courtyard. The gate that leads into it is so rusted it’s almost falling off its hinges. This place isn’t used by the current occupants - which was why she’s chosen it as her point of infiltration. 

She’s been scoping the mansion for the past week, before Leliana’s orders came in, long enough to get her acquainted with some of the security aspects. Her intel tells her that there are three patrols that change every eight hours. Intel also states that it takes them an hour to complete a round. She knows that they don’t have cameras outside. That would draw too much attention. 

Elise checks her burner phone. It’s a clone of one belonging to a Venatori agent. She’d “accidentally” run into him at the local market, and the minute of apologies was enough for her phone to connect wirelessly to Kiedrin’s phone. Then it had been an easy matter of using the appropriate software to clone his phone into an entirely new phone, and the end result had been unfettered access to his communications.

She slips across the courtyard, blending in with the many shadows. There’s a large wooden door at the end of it - that’s where she needs to be, and so she makes her way towards it. Holding her breath, she tries the handle, pleased that it opens without a sound. There’s a darkened passageway in front of her; she can hear footsteps in the distance.

Elise moves closer. Her fingers twitch as the sound of the footsteps grow louder. “Fucking Calpernia,” a man’s voice mutters. “Thinks she fucking knows everything. Well, she doesn’t.”

“Patience, brother,” a woman soothes. “Corypheus has plans for her. You know this.”

“What about us, Alina?” the sound of shoes scuffling on the ground. “We can’t stay. Marrin wants me to start on red lyrium. Next week, he said.”

“He said that?” A long, shaky exhale. 

“Yes. I- I don’t want to take it, Alina. I’ve seen what it does-”

“We- you-” Broken sobs. “Oh, Simon. What can we do? They’ll kill us if we run.”

Elise peeks around the corner. The Venatori siblings are locked in an embrace. She shakes her head in pity. Corypheus must not even trust his agents, if he’s forcing them to take red lyrium. Gnawing on her lip, she comes to a decision. The two clearly seem disillusioned with the Venatori. Maybe they’d be willing to assist the Inquisition in exchange for protection. Elise takes out her modified silenced pistol, and fires twice in rapid succession. There’s a brief shocked gasp, followed by the muffled thump of two bodies hitting the ground.

She secures them with the aid of the cuffs she always carries, locking them to a nearby exposed pipe. Tugging at it, she ensures everything is sturdy, and that the two cannot break free. Pleased, she proceeds to contact her handler. “Robin to Lionheart. Two packages for Nightingale secured. Over.”

“Noted, Robin. Acquisition during clean up. Is it mealtime? Over.”

“Stomach’s full. Robin over and out.”

She takes the keycards from both bodies and studies them. They only have names, a barcode and a magnetic strip at the bottom. Elise pockets them, then makes her way up the stone stairwell. The house is eerily silent, with that strange humming she’d encountered in Therinfal. It makes her shiver, and her stomach feels like something’s slithering within it. The Venatori agent mentioned lyrium - clearly he wasn’t the first to be introduced to the stuff. Her body’s reaction to it tells Elise that several of the agents here are on red lyrium - which means that there’s a high chance the drug is around, too. 

_ Merde _ . This is going to make things incredibly difficult. She takes a moment to send a quick warning to Cullen - the last thing she wants is for his men to get exposed to the stuff.

The north, east, and south wings of the house are empty. Elise finds herself having to be extremely careful not to leave footprints in the dust on the floor. Even so, she worries that her presence will be noticed come the light of the day, which makes it all the more imperative that she wraps up quickly - and quietly. 

The west wing is the smallest, a short corridor with six doors; three to her left, and three to her right. Elise narrowly escapes being caught several times as she investigates - there’s a kitchen, a bathroom, two rooms that serve as bedrooms, and, finally, the two rooms that appear to be the workrooms. The one on the left houses the servers, and is the one she’s interested in. Better yet, it has a window, which means she has a good escape route.

She plugs in her device into the server racks, and uploads her software to their system. It takes ten minutes, then she’s got the window open, and is out on the narrow ledge, slowly inching her way around the corner and desperately attempting to ignore the ground below here. Her heart races, and she has to force herself not to instinctively duck as one of the Venatori comes outside and lights up a cigarette. The smoke drifts upwards, tickling her nose; Elise holds her breath in fear of accidentally sneezing. It takes several minutes - several infuriatingly panicked minutes, but the woman finally goes back into the house. She releases a shake breath, tries to wiggle her toes as best as she can given the limited space available to her, and keeps moving. Another twenty minutes, and she’s back at the Inquisition safehouse, ready to start delving into the Venatori’s data.

* * *

> RBN: Line’s secure.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: Any news?
> 
> RBN: Something troubling. Sending the report .
> 
> RBN has shared <file ReportsToCalpernia>. Waiting for the other party.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN has accepted <file ReportsToCalpernia>
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: Can you really trust that intel?
> 
> RBN: If the Orb is real, then it makes sense that its creators are also real, right?
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: According to the legends, the Tevinter magisters didn’t create the Orb.
> 
> RBN: Maybe not, but they existed around the time of the ancient elves, right? So they’d know of the Orb’s existence. How else would he have learned of it?
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: This is… disconcerting. We will have to look into this. When the time comes to face Corypheus, we have to be absolutely prepared to take him down.
> 
> RBN: There’s something else. 
> 
> RBN has shared <file ShrineOfDumat>. Waiting for the other party.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN has accepted <file ShrineOfDumat>.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: What am I looking at?
> 
> RBN: I found references to a Shrine of Dumat in the Val Royeaux safehouse. It’s also something Calpernia is looking into. He/she knows that it exists, but doesn’t know where. There’s something in that place, Nightingale.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: You have suspicions, I presume?
> 
> RBN: A couple of people in the Val Royeaux base mentioned that Corypheus has plans for Calpernia. Given that he’s also forcing his own agents to take red lyrium, I think the two might be related.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: Wouldn’t she already be on it? Lionheart reports that his right hand man, Samson, is on the stuff. If Calpernia is as high up as Samson is, then it is more than likely that they would be on it too.
> 
> RBN: Maybe. Something’s not adding up, though. Feels like this Calpernia is starting to get suspicious of Corypheus. If we play our cards right, we might be able to turn her to our cause.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: Be careful. What you’re trying to do is exceedingly dangerous.
> 
> RBN: If we can pull it off it’ll be worth it.
> 
> SKYHLD ADMIN: Very well. I’ve received your reports re: Val Chevin. My agents have confirmed that Val Chevin is not the Venatori’s main base of operation, but the one coordinating efforts across Orlais. Coordinate your efforts with Lionheart and take down the base.
> 
> RBN: Understood. 

* * *

Val Chevin is a lot more difficult to operate in. The town is much smaller than the large, sprawling metropolis of Val Royeaux, and most people seem to know each other. 

She’s not proud of it, but Elise has no other choice but to wear the elven ear prosthetic. She’s small enough, and slender enough, to pass as a true elf with the ears, and it makes moving across the town a whole lot easier. What’s not easy is resisting the urge to punch every slur-slinging fucktard in the jaw. It’s not direct, of course - the law forbids it - but there are always ways around it, and the tones used by the sneering Orlesians leave her with little doubt as to what they  _ really _ think of her.

The Venatoris occupying the rented farmhouse are no better. Two of the men have been handsy with her on more than one occasion. She’s been cheated on her daily wages, the occupants (falsely) believing that she’d have no other recourse but to return.

The fucking idiots even let her sweep and mop their workroom. 

Granted, someone’s there to keep an eye on her, but Elise’s good at matters requiring sleight of hand. The tiny wi-fi scrambler will sit beneath the CPU perfectly without drawing any attention. It’ll give Leliana the power to monitor the messages going in and out of the base, with the option to make any alterations as necessary. Inquisition agents are already monitoring the house, so if any of these jackasses get the bright idea to flee, they aren’t going to be able to get far.

It’s been agreed that she investigates the chain, until she learns the location of the Venatori’s main base. Dismantling the Val Chevin operation would only alert the mother base; better to follow the trail and neutralize the leaders, so the followers fall into chaos and can easily be picked off.

Her arms and shoulders are aching by the time she’s done cleaning. She goes to the woman - Nerova, her name is - to collect her wages for the day. She’s handed another white envelope, and told to leave immediately. Elise does - she doesn’t want to stay there any longer than necessary. She’s pleased to find she’s been shorted a hundred sovereigns - it’ll serve as a reason for the  _ why _ when she doesn’t make an appearance tomorrow. 

Tired, she flops out on the bed, and takes out her phone. The call rings twice before it’s picked up.

“Hey, you.” 

“Hey yourself.” She knows he’s likely standing near the window of his bedroom. He’s probably in his work clothes, the top button of his shirt undone. She wonders if there’s a breeze, wonders if that carefully combed hair is mussed from his habit of running a hand through it. “Is everything okay?” His voice is warm; Elise can tell he’s pleased to hear from her. That’s enough to make the exhaustion recede from her bones, just a little bit.

“Just tired. Man, housework is  _ hard _ .” There’s no way she can cover the whine in her tone. She doesn’t really want to, either. It’s been a long, gruelling day, and if she can’t complain about it to the man she loves then what even is the point?

There’s a soft chuckle from the other end. “I’ve seen your room. You’re a slob.”

She has to stifle the laugh that’s bubbled up in her chest. His humor, so unexpected, is one of her favorite things. “Excuse you, I just operate best under conditions of controlled chaos,” she retorts mock-indignantly.

“I don’t think that’s a legitimate excuse.” Cullen snickers again. She relaxes into the mattress. His laugh always manages to ease her stress. “Have you eaten?”

“Not yet.” Before he can scold her, she hurriedly adds, “I’m going to, right after this call. I promise.”

He sighs. “Take care of yourself, darling. For my sake.”

There’s a warm, fuzzy blanket of tenderness in her stomach. Maker, it’s so nice to have someone care. How had she gone without it all this time? “I will. I love you.”

“I love you.” He exhales in a huff. It sounds irritated. “I’m sorry, but there’s a matter that needs my attention. I have to go.”

She understands. As Commander, there’s a near-infinite number of things he needs to work on. “Go ahead,  _ chérie. _ I’ll talk to you later.”

“Be safe, my love,” his voice is low, barely over a whisper. “Come back to me.”

“I will.” She’s still smiling as she hangs up.

He’s waiting for her. What a wonderful, marvelous, gloriously delightful feeling.

* * *

Perendale is quite a small town, quaint in the way old towns are. Old, wooden houses with thatched roofs stand side-by-side to tall, modern stone buildings. The highways are made of asphalt and concrete, but many of the roads within the town are cobbled with flat stones. There are even a few that are barely more than compacted dirt.

There are also herbs everywhere.

It’s charming, Elise thinks. The small stores have window boxes filled with sage and tarragon. The cafes with their tiny, white-picketed patios have pots filled with feverfew and chamomile. Every house has a plethora of herbs tucked under windows and by doors - rosemary, oregano, thyme, coriander. There’s so much of it that it permeates the air.

She can smell spearmint as she makes her way down the tiny alleyway, though she can’t make out the source. Her focus is more on the woman standing at the corner; a slender human woman, hunched against the walls, her eyes darting nervously in all directions.

“Marisol?”

The woman starts, jerks backwards even though there’s a wall behind her. She licks her lips. “Who’s askin’?

“It’s me, Jody. You remember? We met outside the supermarket? I gave you twenty sovereigns?” 

Recognition flickers in Marisol’s rheumy eyes. She licks her lips again. “You said you had more.”

“I do. Do you have what I asked for?”

Marisol glances this way, then that, double and triple checking to ensure they’re all alone. “Ya, I got it.” She scratches her arm absent-mindedly; the action breaks open a blister, the liquid smearing over the skin. Elise feels vomit rise up her throat; she swallows, hard, in a desperate attempt to keep it down.

She’s so grateful for the spearmint.

“You got the money?”

“I do.” Elise - or, as Marisol knows her, Jody - reaches into her thick flannel jacket and pulls out an envelope, opening it to show the woman the bundle of notes within. Marisol, hypnotized by the sight, reaches out for it. “Nuh uh uh,” she chides, pulling it away. “Not until you give me the flash drive, Marisol.”

The jittery woman hisses. She plunges a hand down the threadbare, ratty blouse she’s wearing, digs around for a moment or two, and then pulls out a small USB stick. Elise tries not to grimace at the dampness; she doesn’t want to try and picture where Marisol had stored it. 

“Give me it!” Marisol demands, hands outstretched and making grabby motions.

Elise tucks the flash drive into a hidden pocket, and hands Marisol the envelope. She watches the glee on the woman’s face as she pulls out the many bills tucked within, forces herself to turn and walk away. She knows that Marisol’s going to use the money to buy more drugs, but what can she do? An addict is-

Cullen flashes into her mind.

An addict won’t change unless they want to. She clenches her jaw. Cullen is  _ not _ an addict. He’s a survivor. He’s an inspiration.

And he’s the man she loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder just how many agents Leliana had working for her, and how many more were "information providers" the way Flissa was?


	15. Sur la piste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise works with her fellow agent to track down Calpernia, and has an argument in the process.

Nevarra City is as grand as it is strange. It lacks the polished elegance of Val Royeaux, but there’s no doubt that it is rich in artistry and culture. The stones beneath Elise’s feet feel old - and indeed they are - and all around her are statues. Some are carved from marble, others from granite, and there are even a few that look as though they’ve been forged from obsidian. Each of them is dressed in colorful garments, heraldry of the ancestral house they belong to carved at the base as part of the inscription.

It is late summer, and many of the traditional revels are still around. There are groups of scholars making their way from the Anaxas Estate; participants of the Duchess’ Games. The humidity is making her sticky; Elise feels sweat bead on her neck and collect in the small of her back. She wants to desperately return to her hotel room and take a shower - again - but she has work to do.

The man she’s trailing is Vicinius, a rather nasty piece of work from Tallo, although he claims to hail from Vyrantium. Elise knows that he deals in rare oils and amber, that he prefers red wine to white.

She  _ also _ knows that he has a knack for locating the most wretched, downtrodden people, and offers them a way out of their desperation - they get paid a lump sum, and can work off the debt over time. His claims of recruiting “indentured servants” is, in fact, just a fancier name for modern slavery, and Elise already hates his guts after seeing him trick at least five elves into signing contracts with him. 

She can’t act on it now, or act against him. He’s a prime suspect in her hunt for Calpernia. The woman - it’s clear that Calpernia is a woman, given the nature of the documents Elise recovered from Perendale - is purchasing these indentured servants. She’s put in a special demand for well-educated ones - especially chemists, and programmers. Elise can’t help but wonder  _ why _ \- what’s Calpernia’s game? 

She follows Vicinius as he meanders through the downtown area. He stops at a jewelry store, talks to the owner, but makes no purchases. The man goes to the Castrum mall, buys himself a rather bland meal at the food court, and then goes to watch a movie. There seems to be no particular plan behind his movements, but that only makes Elise uneasy. Only a teenager would wander around aimlessly - and Vicinius with his balding head is definitely not one. Nevertheless, a movie is a good way to shake off a tail, if he suspects one - not that she’s going to let him get away so easily. She speeds up, a hand raised as though she’s greeting someone - that poor man in the distance is baffled, clearly worried she’s someone he’s met before but has forgotten - and deliberately brushes against Vicinius. The tracking dot is the size of a button, and slides into his pant pocket very easily.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she flashes him a quick smile over her shoulder.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growls, not giving her much thought. That tells her two things: one, that he knows he’s being followed, and two, he suspects someone else.

Strange. She hasn’t seen anyone else interested in the man. Or hasn’t she been looking hard enough? He does seem like the kind of man who would have many enemies. Elise mentally shrugs. Her job here is done, but she still needs to sort through the data she’s collected from the Venatori base in the city.

Besides, she  _ really _ needs that shower now. She’s starting to smell quite unpleasant.

Her phone gets an alert well past one in the morning - it’s Vicinius, and he’s just left his rental home. She frowns. If he’s leaving at this time of night, it’s only for one reason - he’s going to meet someone. Dammit. There’s still the report she needs to send to Leliana - the Nightingale’s suspicions that the magister Livius Erimond is involved are totally correct. The Venatori’s main base is in Minrathous - which is going to be an issue, since the ‘Vint’s aren’t exactly known for their cooperation. She can’t - and won’t - act without a solid plan, some assistance, and a good backup.

She checks the tracking signal. It looks like Vicinius is headed for the Minanter River docks. Maybe making a sale to Calpernia? She  _ has _ to go check it out. 

_ Lionheart _

_ Particulars for Nightingale: snake head in the belly of the beast. It’s quite capital, if I do say so myself. See notes attached. _

_ Robin _

The email sent - with coded notes attached, of course - Elise pulls on a hoodie, tucks her pistol into its holster, and checks to make sure the heel of her shoe still has the hidden blade. It does. With a last, lingering look at her warm bed, she sighs wistfully and leaves.

The docks are well lit, but there’s no one around. There’s only the high pitched buzzing of the insects, and the gentle lapping of water against the banks. A stray dog barks now and then, but as far as she can tell, she’s all alone. The small storefronts are closed, though their neon signs result in more shadows spilled across the paved footpath. Elise makes her way to the water’s edge, stopping for a moment to check her phone. Vicinius should be close by - at the edge of the docks, going by the signal - but she can’t see him. Cautiously, she makes her way down the walkway; she’s halfway there when she spots a deep red splotch on the dry wooden planks.

_ Fuck _ . This isn’t good. Every instinct on high alert, she scans her surroundings once more. There’s still no one around, but the back of her neck’s prickling with alarm. Ignoring it, she moves closer.

Vicinius is dead. His face wears a pleading look, eyes staring blankly at the sky. She crouches down, gingerly touches the body. It’s still warm, and rigor mortis hasn’t set it. Elise snaps on a pair of latex gloves, and digs through his pockets - they’ve been cleaned out. She rocks back on her haunches, examines the body with a more professional eye.

There’s something off. She cocks her head, stares at the bullet wound. There’s a ring around the wound, indicative of a powder burn, but it’s too small an area to be made from point-blank range. No, this was a contact shot. Whoever shot Vicinius had the muzzle of their gun pressed right up against his temple.

An execution, then. He deserves as much, but now her questions will remain unanswered, which is a pity.

It’s possible that the killer was one of Vicinius’ victims, but instinct tells her it wasn’t. Taking another look around, she rifles through his body again, sliding her fingers against the lining of his tailored sports coat.  _ Bingo _ ! She can feel something. Pulling out her utility knife, she makes a neat slit along the seam, and searches in the cloth cavity. She pulls out- she doesn’t know what it is. It’s broken, a jumble of broken plastic and metal and wires.

Whatever it is, it’s one big broken piece, which means she’s got a shot at fixing it and recovering whatever was hidden within it.

There’s the sound of sirens in the distance.  _ Fuck _ . She pats Vicinius down one last time, makes certain there’s nothing more to be salvaged. Then she gets to her feet, and gets out of the area; she’s boarding the bus when the police cars and the firetrucks zip past, alarms blaring at full volume. 

* * *

The broken piece of equipment on Vicinus’ body was a recording device. Elise still doesn’t know how it ended up broken, but that’s not really what she’s interested in. She’s more interested in it’s contents.

It takes a few days for Dagna to restore it to a functional state, and now she has the unenviable task - along with Solas - of sorting through the data to see what’s salvageable. So far, she knows that Vicinus was murdered by Venatori agents acting on Calpernia's orders, though the _why_ remains the mystery. She knows that Corypheus’ lieutenant was born and brought up in Tevinter, and that she has a fondness of books, so much so that Elise knows the names of the last three books Calpernia has read - _Myths and Legends of the Old Gods, Dumat: The Dragon of Silence,_ and _The Lyrium Almanac: Home Remedies and Treatments_. She would dearly love to get a copy of the last title - a task easier said than done given that it has been banned by the Southern Chantry.

Maybe once she tracks down Calpernia, she could persuade the woman to lend her a copy. She snickers at the thought.

“Did you find anything humorous?” She watches as Solas raises his arms over his head and stretches, flexing his fingers to relieve the tension in them.

“Oh, just a silly thought, that’s all.”

“I would like to hear it, if you are willing to share,” he smiles, eyes scrunching up at the corners. She frowns, just a little, to herself. Has he always smiled at her like that? As a matter of fact, she doesn’t think he’s ever smiled at  _ anyone _ like that. Except her, apparently.

_ Maker, Elise. Get a grip on yourself. Your paranoia is getting out of hand _ . 

It’s probably because of working with people, she thinks to herself. She’s so used to working alone that having anyone else with her triggers her suspicion. Poor Solas has done nothing to warrant it.

“Oh, I’m just amused by Calpernia’s taste in books,” she says.

His brows knit together. “It’s an eclectic mix,” he remarks. “If I did not know better, I would think she is beginning to have suspicions about Corypheus.”

“I think she does,” Elise says, eyes still on her screen. “Corypheus has plans for her. If I can uncover what he has in mind, then-”

“You could try to sway her to the Inquisition’s cause,” he finishes. “It is certainly worth a try. Losing one of his lieutenants would greatly cripple him.”

“She’s our best chance,” she agrees. “Samson is too loyal to Corypheus. Cullen suspects that the man is addicted to red lyrium.”

“And Corypheus holds the leash,” Solas shakes his head. “He does not trust anyone but himself. That is interesting, but not unusual.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Historically, those in power - or those with a desire to obtain power - have always been loathe to trust anyone save themselves,” Solas slips into his scholar mode. “If Corypheus’ lieutenants know too much about him - without him having any control over them - the chances of betrayal are higher. You said it yourself, did you not? By binding this Samson to him through the use of red lyrium, the chances of betrayal are diminished.”

Elise gnaws on her lip thoughtfully. “I can see that,” she nods. “It seems a rather empty and lonely way to live, though.”

“If one wishes to change the world, one cannot afford to truly trust anyone else but themselves,” the elf remarks with a wry grin. 

“There are other ways to change the world, surely,” she’s not sure why she feels the need to argue, but she does. “What’s that saying?  _ Be the change you wish to see in the world? _ Violence only encourages more violence, because the use of it breeds a need for retribution. If people were kinder to each other-”

He laughs. It sounds more than a little patronizing. “That is a very ideological view to have. In theory, it is a wonderful practice; unfortunately reality is harsher.”

“That might be so,” she glares at him, “but there’s no harm in trying.”

“Is that how you work?” he mocks. “If you’re kind to your targets, they will have a change of heart and stop whatever nefarious plan they intend to carry out?”

“No,” she’s quiet. “But maybe if we were kinder to each other, there would be no need for such nefarious plots in the first place.”

Solas shakes his head. “There will always be those who desire power, and who will do anything to gather as much of it as they can for themselves.”

“And there will always be those willing to stop them,” she retorts. “No one gathers power for power’s sake,” she argues. “Corypheus wants it because he believes that having it will help him better Tevinter. He’s too insane, too power-mad, to see how dangerous red lyrium is-”

“So, that is your plan now?” Solas curls his lip in derision. “Attempt to make Corypheus see reason?”

Elise narrows her eyes. “Why are you being such a dick?” she demands. “If you have such a problem with kindness, maybe I should stop showing you any.” Scowling, she turns on her heel and starts to storm out of the room.

“Elise, wait-”

“Get fucked, Solas,” she growls over her shoulder.

She finds herself in front of Cullen’s office. She’s about to knock at the door when the guard calls out to her. “The Commander isn’t in,” he says. “He’s in a meeting with the Inquisitor.”

Damn. She’d have liked the chance to cool off - he’s so good at helping her calm down - but she’s stuck with herself. It’s fine, though. She’s an adult. She can deal with things- so of course she finds herself seated at the bar.

Flissa’s not working today apparently, and the gruff-looking dwarf who takes her order is blessedly not interested in asking questions. The wine is cold and crisp, perhaps too crisp for her liking, but right now it will suffice.

She can practically feel him sliding into the seat next to hers. Without looking at him, she snarls, “What do you want, Solas?”

“To apologize,” he’s sincerely contrite. “I realize I was belittling and mocking you, and for that I am truly sorry. You are one of the most intelligent people I know, and… your words have wisdom. Forgive me. I am just… the state of my people distraughts me, and I have a tendency to overreact.”

“Tell me, Solas,” she’s staring into the bottom of the wineglass. “How has your experience in the Inquisition been? Has anyone been rude to you? Deliberately unkind?”

“There have been a few cases of… aggression, but the offenders were dealt with. But in the recent past, no. Everyone has been polite and courteous.”

Elise glances at him. “So, a major group like the Inquisition, that is comprised of people belonging to all races, has been successful in ensuring everyone gets along with each other. If everyone adopted this model, would it not benefit all of Thedas?”

He’s silent for a long while. Elise finishes her glass and signals for a refill. It arrives, along with a glass of hard apple cider for Solas. “I would like that to be so,” he says at last, his voice low and strangely yearning. “But I fear the world is more complicated than what either of us would like to believe.”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t.” She drains half the glass in one mouthful. “Maybe we should just agree to disagree.”

There’s another long pause. “I hope,” he sounds wistful, “that someday you will find a way to help me see the world the way you do,  _ lethallin _ .”

She snorts. “If you want me to help you see, Solas, you first have to be willing to look.” She lifts the glass to her lips, frowning when she finds it empty. It’s tempting to order another round, but she really does need her wits about her, she’s still on the clock as it were. “I need to get back to work,” she hops off the barstool. “You coming?”

“Yes.” He finishes his drink, and they walk back to the workroom. 

“Did you find anything else?” she hangs up her coat on the hook by the door, slips off her shoes so they don’t muddy the carpet.

Solas’ lips twitch. “Only that Calpernia’s favorite tea is mint.”

It really shouldn’t be funny, it really shouldn’t, but she can’t help the chuckle that slips out. The image of the lieutenant of the terrorist cult sitting with one leg tucked behind the other and sipping fragrant tea from delicate china - little finger raised, of course - is amusing. 

She sighs as she takes her seat. “I hope we find something. I just-” she exhales heavily. “I want this to end. It’s been going on for so long…”

“I have no doubt it will,” Solas reassures. “Corypheus is running out of options.”

“He still has a few, though,” Elise grumbles. “The sooner we take down his lieutenants, the better.” Her system pings. “Well, here’s something,” she grins at the screen. “I have the names of Calpernia’s lieutenants. Linnea, Zorasum, Helsner. No last names. Look them up for me, will you? Let’s get a report to Leliana asap.”

The report was on Leliana’s desk at four in the evening. It had the full names of Calpernia’s lieutenants, and their locations.

It also had details about the Shrine of Dumat.


	16. Dangerous business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise infiltrates the Shrine of Dumat.

Elise knows silence, and she knows the dangers of shadows. She practically lives in it, after all. Yet even she concedes that whatever’s within this Shrine of Dumat is entirely  _ wrong. _

It’s not much to look at. Just a set of mostly crumbling ruins, a throwback to the times when Tevinter ruled all of Thedas. There are signs of the sinister grandeur that the Vints are famous for, tall, tilted columns with sinuous, slithering, scaled serpents carved into them, their eyes seeming to glow even in this dark. 

She inches forward, her entire focus on scanning the area. Though it  _ appears _ to be abandoned, she doubts it’s undefended. Corypheus, as paranoid as he is, will not leave any of his safehouses unguarded after all.

“See anything?” Harding’s voice is hushed whisper through her earpiece.

“Nothing yet,” she replies, still focused.

It’s been too easy. There are no guards posted anywhere, no cameras; if she didn’t know better she’d think the place was abandoned.

“The floor is trapped,” Solas is at her side. He points to the tiles that are almost imperceptibly raised. 

“Pressure-triggered?”

“Yes.”

“The  _ entire _ floor?”

“Yes.”

Elise swears. How are they going to make their way to the door? 

“I have an idea.” Agent Charter’s already moved ahead, standing by the two stone railings that are all that remains of the platforms they bordered. “You’ll need to keep your balance, but we can use them to make our way to the door.”

The railings, old as they are, hold their weight. They’re standing before the two large metal doors, each flanked by an enormous dragon head. She eyes the dragon statues uneasily before turning her attention back to the doors. There’s no lock, no keyhole, no clear way of entry.

“It’s far too quiet,” Harding mutters.

“How are we supposed to get in?” Elise frowns.

“There should be a mechanism, somewhere,” Solas’s brows are furrowed as he follows the seams of the doors with his fingers. “Aha!” His fingers press on something, and Elise takes a step back as light pours from the mouth of the dragons.

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” she breathes.

“I’ve heard of these traps before,” Solas appears to be enthralled. “They were designed by the ancient elves, I believe.”

“That’s fine and all,” she’s transfixed by the sickly green light. “But how do we get in?”

Solas reaches into his pack and pulls out a pair of small, eyeball-shaped crystals. Elise watches, bemused, as he carefully slides one into each of the beams. The light hitting the crystal scatters into several beams of different colors.

“Holy shit.” She turns to Solas. “How did you know to do that? How did you know to bring those with you?”

He shrugs. “I have been reading about the Shrine. I theorized that, given its age, it would also have ancient defenses. So I did some preparatory research on ancient traps, and organized as best as I could.”

“It’s a good thing you did,” she’s impressed. She hadn’t thought to do the same. “Now what?”

“Now we determine which of those colored beams are the correct ones,” his brows are furrowed, and his fingers nimbly push the crystals into an exact place that only he knows. She watches as he carefully alters the position of the crystals till they only emit red light. Then he angles the crystals such that the red beam of red light slides across the floor and hits the door. As soon as he does, the two doors silently slid open.

“Damn, Solas, you’re good,” she says admiringly as she takes a cautious step into the shrine. 

Inside, it appears to be one long corridor that ends at a door. The passageway is lit up by small, hidden lights that create more shadows than they should. The area appears to be undisturbed, but she knows by now not to trust how serene everything appears to be. From deep within the shrine she can hear the continuous rumble of a generator, which tells her clear as day that this place isn’t as unoccupied as it looks.

“Careful,” Charter warns. “This place turns my stomach. There’s danger lurking here, I can sense it.” 

Elise pulls on her glasses, the special ones with both ultraviolet and infrared filters. Nothing comes up with the IR filter, so she switches to the UV one. “Bingo,” she mutters. “You’re right, Charter.” She pulls out a blacklight torch and turns it on. Instantly, the space in front of them is lit up with thin strands of-

“Lasers,” Charter grimaces.

“They have to come from somewhere,” Harding’s as pragmatic as ever. “The walls, maybe?”

“We need to turn them off. Merely blocking them will not work - in fact it will undoubtedly trigger the alarm.” Solas has his mini tablet out, already attempting to work on disabling the lasers.

“Solas.” she nudges him. “Look.” There, close to the door, is a nook with an almost-hidden screen. “If we can get to that, I think we can turn the system off.”

He presses his lips together as he thinks. “The question is, how would we get there?”

“Leave that to me,” she grins at him.

Dagna’s a whiz with electronics, but Bianca’s knowledge of robotics is unrivaled. It doesn’t look like much - little more than a cube with wheels. But oh, it’s so much more than that, able to move quickly and quietly across the marble floor with its chipped and broken tiles. The little device automatically detects and avoids the lasers, and eventually makes its way to the end. Elise uses the remote to guide it up to the control panel. A hidden wire connects the little robot to the hidden computer.

“That’s brilliant,” Harding is impressed.

Her fellow hacker says nothing, but she can tell he’s paying close attention to how it works. She’s got her tongue out, and her eyes narrowed as she attempts to override the internal security mechanisms to take control. It takes her almost ten minutes before she triumphantly exclaims, “I’m in!”

The control panel shoots out sparks, startling her, but the lasers are down, and the door at the end is open. Concerned, she makes her way to it. “Oh no,” she mournfully examines the little robot. There are black soot-like streaks on the metal body, and several plastic bits within have melted out of shape. “Poor little guy’s been fried.”

“A pity,” Solas sounds genuinely dismayed. “Will you be able to repair it?”

“I hope so.” She sighs and puts it away. “In any case, I don’t think we can use him again.”

“Him? You’ve named that thing, haven’t you?” Harding chuckles as she slips past Elise into the next room.

“I have indeed,” she smirks. “Egbert.”

“Egbert?” Charter’s even more amused. “That’s an odd name.”

“Not really,” she zips up her little pack. Her cheeks feel hot. He’s just a cartoon character from my childhood,” she mumbles.

“Oh, I know that one, it used to be my favorite… oh,  _ shit _ ,” Whatever Harding had to say trails off into a fit of swearing. And Elise fully relates to it.

The door behind them has just slammed shut. And there’s ominous-looking black smoke trickling in through vents on the ceiling.

Oh shit, indeed.

Elise exchanges a look of alarm with Solas. Even though they have rebreathers, it’s the visibility she’s concerned about. With the smoke, it’ll be harder to notice the presence of additional traps.

“Fuckin’ Void, Corypheus  _ really _ doesn’t want anyone to get into this place,” Charter growls out, displeased, as she pulls down her mask.

“We need to work quickly,” she urges. “Visibility is decreasing rapidly.”

Thankfully, Harding’s short stature - not to mention her sharpness - helps her in locating the valves, and the dwarf quickly shuts down the poison gas. By the time she’s done, Elise feels like her throat is on fire - even with the rebreather, the poison’s made its way up her nose.

“Drink,” Solas presses a bottle into her hands. “It will help with the burning.”

She gulps down the water greedily, sighing as the coldness of it washes away the sting. “What in Andraste’s name was that?” she demands. “That wasn’t like anything I’ve ever encountered!”

“ _ Eutrema _ ,” he replies. “It is derived from the seeds of the black mustard.” His lips quirk up ever so slightly. “The gas is toxic only to humans.” 

It’s only then that she notices that she’s the only one affected by it. Harding, Charter, and Solas are fine. She frowns. “Just how toxic?”

“Enough to kill a man in less than a minute,” he’s calm even as he searches her face calculatingly.

She resists the urge to squirm under his gaze. “Guess it’s a good thing I had a mask, then,” she quips, then turns away from him. The sound of the generator is getting louder, and she thinks she’s close to their target.

“I think we’re soon going to find out just what Corypheus has hidden here,” she remarks. “Maybe through that door?”

“I don’t think so,” Charter’s got an instrument pressed up against the door. It’s making a rapid series of angry-sounding beeps. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?”

“Scanner’s picking up emitters. A  _ lot _ of them.”

“Emitters?” She smoothes back her hair, ties it up into a neat bun. “What kind?”

“Hard to say, but… I think they’re microwave?”

“Microwave?” This doesn’t make sense. “What could they possibly do?”

“It is a clever idea, indeed,” Solas’ voice holds reluctant respect. “I have to give Corypheus his due.” He turns to her. “At the right wavelength and frequency, the microwaves from the emitters will heat the water molecules within a person’s body, causing severe, crippling pain. Extended exposure - sometimes even as little as half a minute - can result in death.”

“How do you know this?” Elise demands. “I’ve never heard-”

“As I mentioned earlier, I did my research,” he coolly states. “I suspect that the defenses within this shrine are not of Corypheus’ design. They were, most likely, already set in place by the ancient elves.”

“This was a  _ shrine? _ Damn, those ancient elves had  _ issues _ ,” she mutters heatedly. Charter and Harding nod in agreement.

“Regardless of the mental condition of the ancient elves, we must disable those emitters. I am quite certain that we will reach our target once we do so.”

“Alright, hacker boy, got any ideas?”

“I confess, I cannot think of anything that would be effective,” Solas admits. “As far as I can tell, the emitters can only be disabled with the use of a remote control device. Which we do not have.”

“Could we try to replicate the signal?”

“How? Replication would only be possible if we knew what the original was like.”

“Well, fuck.” She paces around in a circle. “Dammit, if I had my robot, I could’ve used it-”

“Maybe if you repaired it?”

“Not here I can’t. I don’t have the tools.”  _ This can’t be it, _ she thinks. They can’t have come all this way only to be defeated. There  _ has _ to be some way, right? She stares at the door, examines every inch of it. It’s sealed firmly, fitted so well into the wall she can’t even slide a blade into the frame. 

“There is  _ one _ way,” Charter says slowly.

“What?”

The elven woman shrugs. “We could just trigger the alarm.”

“ _ What. _ ”

“Think about it,” Charter continues. “We’ve disabled most of the traps, so they can’t work. We have a clear way out of this place. Sure, triggering the alarm will attract the attention of the Venatori, but I reckon we have time. We set the alarm off, the door opens, we can disable the emitters, right? There should be a master switch we can disable. So, the emitters won’t be an issue, we can run in, investigate, and get out before the Venatori get here.” She shrugs. “Or we could just turn back.”

_ Dammit _ . Elise hates to admit it, but Charter’s right. They only have that option. It’s definitely a risky one, but… if they time it right, they might be able to make it. And given that this place is so heavily defended, it  _ must _ have some big secrets. 

Still, the odds aren’t as much in their favor as she’d like. She’s not really sure how long it’ll take for the Venatori to get here, and she can’t predict their numbers, which makes her really uneasy. This could just end badly for them.

If they leave, on the other hand, they won’t get another shot at figuring out what’s in this damn shrine.

“Let’s do it,” she says decisively before she can change her mind. Solas says nothing, only frowns as Charter deliberately attempts to pull open the door. Immediately, there’s a high pitched sound that has all of them cover their ears - but the doors open. Solas identifies the tiny outlet on the far wall that powers the emitters, and Harding’s impeccable aim disables them all within a minute. She takes a few seconds to scan the room ahead - there doesn’t seem to be any further trouble. They run through the narrow passageway, wasting several precious minutes to disable the door at the end.

It slides open to reveal a fully functional lab. Every kind of instrument imaginable is present here. The hum of the generator is loud, drowning out every other sound in the space. The scent of chemicals is heavy in the air; and in a corner, hunched over a table, is an older man, heavy chains around his wrists and ankles.

“Hands in the air. Turn around slowly.” Elise has her pistol out and ready.

The man turns around, ignoring her commands. “I am no threat to you, but you are in danger. You must leave before  _ he  _ comes.”

“Who are you?”

“I am- was- oh, I do not know any longer,” he laments. “When I was in Minrathous, I was a magister. Magister Erasthenes. I was the foremost researcher of Ancient Tevinter in- oh, in all the Imperium. Now,” he holds up his hands; the  _ clink _ of the chains sounds sinister. “I am a prisoner of Corypheus, forced to carry out his commands.” He falls to his knees, defeat in every angle of his body. “For Calpernia’s sake, I am lost.”

She’s horrified. “Corypheus did this to you on Calpernia’s behalf?”

“She knows not.” He looks up at them, his eyes sunken into their sockets, his face haggard. He is clearly a man who has been tortured and beaten down; a mere husk of who he once had been. “She does not know I am here, bound and broken. If she did, perhaps she could stop… this.”

“Stop what?”

“Corypheus does not wish those who serve him to have free will. The red lyrium - Calpernia knows what it does to those who take it. She has refused to become like them. She has refused to consume it.”

“And Corypheus does not approve,” Solas nods, as though his suspicions have been confirmed.

"He does not,” Erasthenes agrees. “But he requires her services. Thus he commanded that I create a new version of red lyrium. One that is even more addictive, but allows the addict to retain their mind. She will not suspect it. But when she takes it-”

“She’ll become addicted to it, and Corypheus will have a leash for her,” Elise exhales long and slow. “It’s a devious plan. He couldn’t risk Calpernia’s spies bringing her the truth, so he hid you - and this place - away from her. Calpernia would leave if she found out.”

“He is no fool. Neither is she.”

“Look, the Inquisition needs information. They need to know what Corypheus is up to, so they can stop him. And I’m certain you’d like to be free. We could help each other out.”

“Anything,” he pleads. “I will tell you anything. Just take me away from here.”

“All right.” She turns to Solas. “Get as much information as you can from that computer, then wipe it. Corypheus can’t be allowed to continue his research. Charter,” she orders, “keep an eye out for company. Harding, help me get him out of those chains.”

The chains are unlike anything she’s ever encountered. Just touching them sends a jolt of current into Erasthenes’ body. His predicament becomes clear - those traps outside are meant to keep him in, just as much as they are to keep intruders out. It takes some time - time they don’t have, time during which Elise’s mind is screaming at her to  _ get out _ \- but eventually they work him free of his bindings.

“Venatori in sight!” a warning crackles through Elise’s earpiece.

“We need to move. Now!” she barks, casting an expert eye over the room to make sure she hasn’t missed anything.

Disabling the traps has indeed cleared the path. Elise regroups with Charter outside the doors of the shrine. “How many, and how far?” she asks.

“Too many,” Charter looks worried. In the distance, Elise can make out a group of about a dozen people. They all look heavily armed.

“Fuck,” she swears quietly. Next to her, Erasthenes is slowly descending into a panic attack. She needs a plan,  _ now _ ! “Charter, Harding,” she swallows. If this works, they’ll all be home free. If it doesn’t- “Get Erasthenes out of here. Get him to Leliana. Solas,” she turns to look at the elf. His mouth is thinned out, and his face is grim. “You’re with me. We’re going to distract that group.”

He narrows his eyes, but doesn’t say anything. He pulls out a flash drive from his pack, hands it to Charter. “This is the data from the computer,” he says, his gaze never leaving Elise. “Leliana will need this.”

She pulls out her pistol, waits for Solas to do the same. They watch as Harding and Charter leave with the magister. The Venatori are getting closer.

“I hope you have a plan,” Solas asks.

"I do.” She gives him a grim smile. “ _ Run _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I missed posting last week - things got real crazy. My SO (who had returned to work) fell ill, and had to go get tested for covid. It came back negative (yay!) but he's still under the weather.


	17. Elle est perdue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise finally meets Calpernia.

**Cullen’s POV**

“Commander.” Leliana’s voice is terse, and her face is even more stoic than usual. Cullen feels the first strings of dread unravel in the pit of his stomach. 

“Leliana. You said the matter was urgent?” His gaze takes in the figure standing by the corner beneath the window. Solas’ shoulders are hunched, and he cannot see the man’s face. The feeling of dread grows stronger.

“Take a seat, Commander.”

He ignores the request, opting instead to cross his arms and deliberately stand next to the offered chair. His mind is working a hundred miles an hour trying to piece together whatever the scene before him is trying to say.

_Solas is here. Which means that his mission is complete._

_And he was on a mission with Elise._

_But Elise_ \- he looks around desperately, fear clawing at his throat. _Elise isn’t here-_?

“Where is El-Laura?” he asks, his voice shaking just the slightest bit. His stomach feels hollow, too hollow, as does his chest.

The spymaster sighs. “Cullen-”

He takes a step backward. “Where is Laura?” he directs the question towards Solas.

The elf turns. There’s a long, thin, angry-looking wound running down the length of his cheek that looks like it’s only just scabbed over. One of his eyes is blackened, and his lip is split and swollen.

His face is filled with guilt and remorse.

_Maker, no. Oh, Maker, no_. He can feel the air in his lungs freeze. _No, no, no! She can’t be-_

“She-” Cullen can see it’s difficult for Solas to speak the words. “The Venatori took her.”

For half a second, his body relaxes. _Not dead_. Then the gravitas of Solas’ confession hits him, and he’s buried under the avalanche of it. _Captured_. Cullen’s knees give out and he collapses into the chair. “It- how is that possible?” he demands, voice raised. Denial is his first instinct. “You said you’d planned for it, taken every precaution-”

“Not _every_ precaution,” Solas shakes his head. “The plan was to avoid alerting the enemy. Unfortunately, we were not successful-”

“Clearly,” Cullen snarls, his, hand so tight on the wooden armrest it creaks. “How did this happen? She is- I know her. She is cautious. She-” his mind is such a jumble he finds it hard to string together the questions he wants to ask.

“Based on Charter’s reports, the Shrine of Dumat was filled with traps-” Leliana begins.

Solas cuts her off. “Lady Nightingale, allow me. Please.”

The spymaster doesn’t look very pleased but nods nonetheless.

The elven man clears his throat. “Agent Laura and I prepared for the excursion as best as we could, given the limited knowledge we had. We knew there would be traps, but- but we were unprepared for how elaborate they were. Corypheus had not designed the traps, but merely triggered the existing defenses of the building. The building has been standing since ancient times-”

“Get on with it!” he growls, frustration lending a harsher edge to the words than he intended, but he cannot bring himself to care. The longer Solas talks, the more time they waste- time they could - should! - be spending on getting Elise back.

“Of course. My apologies,” Solas holds his hands out, chagrined. “We managed to pass through three of them without much trouble. But the fourth one - the last one - we had no way of crossing, or disabling it. We could have turned back, but the prevailing thought was that we had already arrived this far, and all of us were loathe to return empty-handed. So Agent Charter had an idea; she recommended deliberately triggering the alarm so that the trap would be temporarily disabled.”

Cullen’s jaw drops and he gapes at the other man. It takes him a moment or two to recover. “You… _deliberately triggered_ the alarm? And she _went along_ with this… this _insane_ idea?”

“Yes,” the elf says evenly. He clasps his hands behind his back and continues. “We managed to breach the inner sanctum this way, and recovered both the data and a valuable witness. In the process, however, we lost valuable time. By the time we returned to the entrance, the Venatori were almost upon us.” Solas exhales slowly. “There were about a dozen of them, all heavily armed. Agent Laura took charge and decided that our best chance would be to split up. Agent Harding and Agent Charter were to get the data and the witness to safety. Myself and Agent Laura were to distract the Venatori - which we managed to do. Unfortunately, in the ensuing scuffle, we were… outmaneuvered.” A look of regret falls over the elf’s face. “Agent Laura decided that- she pushed me into a nearby gully, and- diverted our pursuers. She was- that is, I believe she was drugged before they took her.”

“Andraste preserve me,” Cullen feels himself grow cold. If the Venatori have her… Maker only knows what they intend to do. It’s very likely that they will torture her, try to coerce her into revealing secrets. And- the blood in his veins turns to ice. They could feed her red lyrium, turn her to their side… He turns to Solas. “You stood by and did _nothing_ ?” he spits out. “You just _watched_ as they took her away?”

“What would you have had me do, Commander?” Solas spreads his hands apart in an attempt to explain. “Would you rather I have been captured as well? If I had, then the Inquisition would have lost both of its best hackers. I understand that her loss troubles you greatly, but at least I was able to report back and get help if possible.”

He looks up at Leliana, unaware of the anguish on his face. “We have to get her back.”

Leliana sighs. “Cullen-”

He rises to his feet, looming over the spymaster. “We. Have. To. Get. Her. Back,” his lip curls upwards.

The spymaster eyes him coolly. “We cannot.”

“What do you _mean,_ you cannot?” He blinks, incredulous, at Leliana, cocks his head to the side. “This is your _job_!”

Leliana is unmoved. “My job, Commander, is to obtain information for the Inquisition. Information that can be used for our benefit. My job does not involve looking after my agents-”

“Like hell, it doesn’t!” he snaps.

She continues as though he hadn’t interrupted. “In any case, I cannot help her, because the simple fact is that we have no idea where she is.”

“What?” he frowns. “She must have had a tracker- or something-”

“She did, but something happened to it,” she explains. “It is no longer working. The last known location was in the Arlesans, which is where the shrine was located. After that, there has been nothing. The GPS is unable to pick up any signal. Either the unit was damaged, or,” her voice gentles, “it was destroyed by her attackers.”

His head begins to rumble, a sign of an oncoming migraine. “There must be _something_ ,” he’s aware he’s grabbing at straws, but he has to do something. He can’t- she has to- he can’t- she has to come back. She _promised_. She loves him, and he- he loves her. It can’t end this way- “Wasn’t she working on locating the Venatori base?” he bursts out desperately. “They must have taken her there-”

Leliana shakes her head, a look of helpless frustration on her face. “She went missing in Orlais. Her next stop was to be in Vyrantrium. Her last report said that the base was in Minrathous. There are too many uncertainties for me to determine exactly where their base is. Furthermore, even if I _did_ know the location of the base, it would be incredibly difficult to mount a rescue in Tevinter.” She sighs and turns away. “I’m very sorry, Cullen. I really am. But- but she’s gone, and we cannot get her back.”

Cullen reaches out, grips Leliana’s shoulder, and pivots her around. “She is your _friend_!” he hisses. “She agreed to help you as a favor to you, and this is how you repay her?” 

“She knew the risks!” Leliana lashes out, shrugging off his hand. “She’s an agent who knew the risks when she joined. Every agent knows that there’s always a chance that they might not come home. Do you know how many agents I’ve lost in the field so far, Commander? This is what we do. She made a call on the field, and- and it turned out not to be the best one, and she paid the price for that. I don’t like it, but I have to accept it, and so do you!”

He can see the tears in Leliana’s eyes, and it’s the sight of them that finally breaks him. “Leliana, please,” he begs, uncaring that Solas is in the room with them. “Please. I- I can’t lose her.” His voice trembles, covered in desperation as it is. “I _love_ her, Leliana. Please. There has to be _something_ -” he chokes on the rest of words that won’t leave his throat.

Leliana takes in a deep breath and moves behind her desk. She picks up a report from the top of the pile, scans through it. “I- I'll talk to the witness,” she says at last. “He is a magister who has interacted with Calpernia. He might know more.”

Cullen's shoulders sag in gratitude. “Thank you,” he exhales, relieved.

“I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”

“Please do.” His head is viciously throbbing now, but it doesn’t hurt quite as much as the pain of knowing that she’s not safe. It doesn’t hurt as much as the helplessness he feels. She’s out there, alone, injured, and he doesn’t even know where she is. There has to be something he can do. She trusts him. He can’t let her down. He won’t. Cullen stills when Leliana calls out, his hand wrapped tight around the door handle. 

“Don’t get your hopes up, Commander.”

He nods tersely, shutting the door behind him. It’s a lie. Hope is all he has. He has to keep hoping. Because the alternative - that she might not come back - is more than he can bear.

* * *

**Elise’s POV**

Her head’s fuzzy as she comes to, her eyes blink blearily against the brightness of the harsh fluorescent lights. It takes several seconds before she can bring her surroundings into focus, but when they do, Elise looks around, taking everything in.

She’s seated on a simple steel chair, her arms cuffed behind her. She tugs gingerly at them, testing them; they don’t feel like the templar standard issue kind. They’re thicker, sturdier. She runs her fingers as best as she can around the rims; she can’t find a weak point.

Damn.

The room she’s in is a simple one. Small, windowless, with paint peeling off the walls. The ceilings are stained yellow, and there’s a suspicious sticky-looking large blot of red on the chipped tile floor. The air is stale; it tickles her nose and she sneezes. She glances at the door, expecting someone to walk in at the sound, but no one does.

She frowns. Something feels off.

Elise turns her attention back to the room. She hasn’t seen any cameras, but maybe she hasn’t looked hard enough. There are some corners that are too dark - for human eyes - but she’s got better vision, the result of her elven heritage.

No cameras. No guards. Nothing, not even a cliché two-way mirror.

She calculates the probability of a successful escape. It will depend, of course, on her physical condition. She turns her focus inwards, attempting to suss out the state of her body as best as she can. No broken bones, from what she can tell - she takes a deep breath in, and out, and nothing stings, nothing burns, so her ribs are pristine, Andraste be praised. She suspects she might have a slight concussion, but all things considered, she’s in pretty good shape.

_Okay. Let’s work this out_. She has no idea where she is, but if she has to hazard a guess, she’d say she’s probably in Tevinter. Minrathous, if her intel about the Venatori base is accurate. This must be some kind of Venatori safe house, then, if not the main base itself.

She gnaws on her lip, eyes flickering in all directions. If she does manage to get out of the cuffs, there’s the steel door to deal with. It’s going to be near-miraculous if she manages to get out of here, but she has to try-

The door swings open.

A woman steps into the room, carefully shutting the door behind her. From what Elise can tell, every inch of her is immaculate. Her hair is perfectly combed and pulled back into two braided buns, not a strand out of place. Her suit is perfectly tailored. Slacks so crisply pressed they could slice a finger. Elegant, high necked blouse in a deep navy blue color. She has a white porcelain cup in her hands, steam drifting lazily from the top.

Elise can smell mint.

So, this would be Calpernia, then. The Venatori lieutenant carries herself with the kind of studied, careful grace that raises every last one of Elise’s hackles. This is a dangerous woman, one not to be trifled with.

A shame she’s working with Corypheus, really.

This close, Elise can make out the many freckles that dot Calpernia’s face. There’s a mole above her right eyebrow. Her eyes blaze with intelligence and what could be amusement if not for the small curl of her captor’s lips. She watches as Calpernia drags a chair before her, dusting off the cushion on it before taking a seat.

Calpernia crosses one leg over the other. Her eyes never leave Elise as she takes a delicate sip from her cup.

“So,” she remarks conversationally, breaking the tense silence. “You’ve been quite busy, haven’t you?”

Elise says nothing.

Calpernia doesn’t seem to mind. “I’m sure I don’t know the full extent of your meddling,” she continues. “I was, however, most impressed by your antics in Denerim. That was a masterful performance, and I have to congratulate you. A pity your partner isn’t here for me to extend my accolades to, but I’m sure we’ll meet in due course, yes?” She smiles wide, teeth too-white and too-sharp. “And then, oh, the hunting!” She takes another sip. “Like a mabari on the trail.” She laughs, the sound mocking. “You’re very, very clever, aren’t you, Miss Laura Vidal?” Sip. “Although I very much doubt that’s your real name.”

She leans back, drapes one arm over the back of the chair, rests her cup on her thigh. “I’m not here to play games, Miss Vidal. I’m here to hear your story.” Another delicate sip. “I want to know what the Inquisition knows. All of it.”

Elise stares back at the woman silently.

“I assume you’re not eager to share any details?” Calpernia sighs, the sound dramatic. “It would make my life so much easier. And it would save you a great deal of discomfort.” The Venatori lieutenant cocks her head to the side and appraises Elise. “But I doubt you like _easy_. A pity.”

Elise focuses on her breathing. _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale_. It’s controlled, measured. It works to keep her heart from racing.

“See, at this stage, I would usually threaten you with pain. I might even hurt you. It’s quite remarkable what one can do with a simple pen, let me tell you.” Calpernia swirls her cup before bringing it to her lips. “Maybe bring someone in with scalpels and other sharp implements. Kovik, perhaps, he’s a genius with a blade, and he’s been getting quite bored of late.” She cocks her head, smiles so… _personably_. “Hook you up to a car battery, perhaps? That would certainly keep that pretty skin of yours quite clean.” Another slow, measured sip. 

“But violence is so… _overrated_. So messy. And the results!” She sniffs in derision. “Inaccurate, to say the least. One cannot _rely_ on information that’s been extracted through the use of cruder methods.” She pins Elise with the force of her gaze. “But, as I’m sure you know,” her smile is grim, “we women have _other_ ways. More… _elegant_ ones. I think it’s something you can relate to, yes?”

Calpernia drains the last of her tea, sets the cup gently on the floor. “How did you learn about the Shrine of Dumat?”

Elise tilts her head, appraises her captor. She’s been trying to get to Calpernia to- well, to try and sway her to the Inquisition’s side. And now she’s actually face-to-face with Corypheus’ lieutenant, but- but she doesn’t have proof. No data. Solas has wiped all the data from the Shrine. Erasthenes is with the Inquisition. The truth won’t help her.

She remains stiff and silent, keeping her gaze on the center of Calpernia’s forehead.

“Oh, dear. Are you really sure you want to go down this route?” When Elise doesn't reply, she rises with a sigh and a shake of her head. Calpernia reaches into the pocket of the fitted jacket she’s wearing, and pulls out- “Sodium pentothal,” she says casually, snapping on a glove. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. This is my personal… shall we say, recipe? It’s quite effective, I assure you.” She taps the needle with her finger. 

Elise doesn’t react as Calpernia injects the drug into her arm, even though her heart is racing with a mix of worry and fear. It doesn’t hurt, but even if it did- well, she’s more concerned about the effects of what’s now in her body than she is with any damage done by that thin needle.

“I’ll let you ruminate for a while,” Calpernia caps the syringe, slides it back into her pocket. “You might want to start thinking about all the things I’d like to hear.” She takes her dirty cup and leaves with it, not bothering to look back.

_Shit_. Elise tilts her head back, tries to control her breathing. She needs to get her heart under control; the faster it beats, the quicker the drug percolates through her system. It’s a futile effort, she knows, but it gives her a semblance of control.

She knows all about sodium pentothal. Hell, she’s even used it herself a couple of times. Contrary to how popular media portrays it, it’s not a truth serum, not quite. All it does is reduce inhibitions, weakens the resolve of a subject to make them more susceptible to questions, more compliant with external manipulations. But contrary to what Calpernia believes, she’s actually had it used on her.

_I guess I have that fucker Lambert to thank._

Sure, lying is more complex than telling the truth. And it’s a whole lot harder to lie when one’s higher cortical brain functions are… suppressed. But - and it’s something she’s learned the hard way - lying isn’t just restricted to actively creating falsehoods. Deflection, and omission, work just as well.

Elise will give Calpernia the truth; it just won’t be the truth the lieutenant is looking for.

If she can play her cards right, if she brings up Erasthenes in just the right way, at the right time… maybe, just maybe, Calpernia might reconsider her position with the Venatori. After all, she and Solas have determined that the woman had a soft spot for her former mentor.

Besides, instinct tells her that Calpernia isn’t an advocate for senseless violence. 

It’s a long shot, a massive gamble, and she’s usually not one for these kinds of risks, but… what other choice does she have right now? It’s not like she’s going to be going anywhere. Besides, ever since she signed up with the Inquisition she’s been wagering her life in a multitude of ways.

Like falling in love, for one.

Her heart sinks when she thinks of Cullen. Hopefully, Solas was able to escape, and take the news of her capture to him. She hates that he must be hurting for her. That he’s despairing - for her. 

_Come back to me._

She did tell him she would. She has to keep her word.

Elise doesn’t know how much time has passed before Calpernia returns. The Venatori lieutenant is carrying a notepad and a pen, something that surprises her. She’d thought the woman would’ve preferred something more modern.

Calpernia returns to her seat.

“How are you feeling?” she asks affably, her sharp gaze taking in Elise’s face. Something she sees there must please her because she smiles contentedly and crosses one leg over the other. “Good. Now, let’s start small, shall we? Why don’t you tell me your name?”

Elise shuts her eyes. The question bursts through her, making her want to blurt out the entirety of her history to the woman in front of her. She takes a deep breath in, attempts to regain some control of her mind. It’s hard - her mind feels so lethargic and sluggish and it fights against the effort. Judging by the amusement on Calpernia’s face the Venatori lieutenant can see her struggles. “The Inquisition has me registered as Laura Vidal,” she manages to push out, the words slurred.

“Hmmm.” Calpernia sounds displeased. There’s a rustle, and Elise starts as her eyelids are pulled open. She tries to pull away, but she can’t. The Venatori lieutenant examines her eyes; this close, she’s assailed by the scent of the woman’s perfume; bergamot and citrus mingle with the mint of the tea Calpernia favors. “It seems to have taken effect,” Calpernia murmurs, before settling back into her chair. “Let’s try again. Who do you work for?”

It’s easier to coax her mind to some semblance of compliance this time. “I am contracted to work for Leliana, the Inquisition’s spymaster.”

“What is your job?”

Elise lifts and drops her shoulders in a mockery of a shrug. Her muscles feel abnormally loose. “Whatever it is I am asked to do.”

There are plenty of questions, all asked in a soft, concerned tone. Elise struggles, slipping up in between, but more often than not she manages to sidestep the question. She's freer with jobs that she’s completed - especially the ones with no loose ends - but a lot more reticent about the Inquisition’s knowledge of Corypheus’ activities. Finally, Calpernia gives her the break she’s been looking for.

“What was your last job?”

“To investigate the Shrine of Dumat.”

Calpernia’s eyes narrow, and she jots something down on the notepad. “How did you learn about the Shrine of Dumat?”

“Mentions of the Shrine first came up when I was investigating the Venatori base at Val Royeaux.”

“The servers at the base were destroyed before the Inquisition could gain access to it. How did you manage to obtain the data?”

“I infiltrated the base and made copies of the server date before the Inquisition’s forces raided the base. Decrypting the data gave us the information about the Shrine.”

“What else did you find?”

“Corypheus is an ancient being, possibly from the time of the ancient elves. That was how he knew of the Orb.”

“How did you learn this?”

“One of the reports I decrypted made mention of Lord Geresque. The Inquisition was able to obtain the tome your agents referenced. We also learned Corypheus’ name.”

Calpernia’s brows raised. “What is his name?”

“Sethius Amladaris. He was one of the seven Old God high priests in the Magisterium. He was the high priest of Dumat. Or so the texts say.”

“What do you know of the others?”

“They served the Old Gods. There’s not much else, but we haven’t really looked. The Inquisition cares only about Corypheus.”

There are several minutes of silence as Calpernia takes more notes.

“Did you manage to break into the Shrine of Dumat?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Elise describes the traps and obstacles they encountered in detail, as well as the means by which her group overcame them. When she’s done, the question she’s been expecting this entire time comes.

“What did you find within?”

“There was a research lab there. And one man running it. He was chained; imprisoned by Corypheus, he said.”

“Who was this man, and what was he researching?”

“His name was Erasthenes. He said Corypheus had taken him to-” Elise breathes in, breathes out. She feels so weird. Her stomach is roiling, her muscles are overly relaxed, her brain feels like it is shutting down, and yet she feels the desperate need to finish what she’s saying. She knows it’s urgent but she can’t figure out why. “He was ordered by Corypheus to create a new kind of red lyrium, he said. For you.”

“For me?”

She nods, her chin hitting her chest. It’s too much effort to raise her head, so she just lets it hang. “Erasthenes said you know what red lyrium does. Said you won’t take it. Corypheus doesn’t like it. But he can’t force you to take it. So he got Erasthenes to make a new version of it. More addictive, but it will allow the addict to keep their mind. Just for you, he said.”

“Like a leash,” Calpernia says slowly. “The addiction would be a leash.”

“Yes.”

“Where is Erasthenes?”

“With the Inquisition.”

“The data from his research?”

“With the Inquisition.”

“So, you make these claims, but you have no proof,” Calpernia _tsks_. “Why should I believe you?”

“No proof, yes. But still the truth.”

“We’ll see.” The Venatori lieutenant rises to her feet, clearly unsettled. “I must- I must look into this.” She’s almost at the door when she stops and turns. “I hope that what you told me is the truth, Miss Vidal. If you’re lying, there will be no antidote, and your death will be a certainty.”

Elise barely registers the other woman’s words. She’s sluggish, only able to stay upright because of her restraints. Her tongue feels too thick, like it’s filling up the entirety of her mouth, and she can feel her throat closing in. Her vision swims; she can’t make out objects, just blurry blobs of color.

_Fuck_. She’s been poisoned.

And the only person with the antidote has left the room.

This is _so_ not good.


	18. The chase is on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise and Cullen find themselves in a dangerous situation.

Elise hobbles her way down the stairs of the bus; her body still feels too weak, but Elise is determined to get back to Skyhold. She  _ needs _ to. 

Yes, she wants to see Cullen again. Is desperate for it, actually. But there’s something larger, and more concerning, on her mind.

Calpernia’s words still ring in her head.  _ You should thank your friend the dread wolf - he saved your life. He sent me the data from the Shrine. You weren’t lying about what Corypheus had planned for me. I’m letting you go, but be clear that this is a one-time favor that will not be repeated should our paths cross again. _

She has so many questions. Who is the dread wolf? How did he know about her capture? And-  _ why _ did he care about her fate?

Her eyes pick out a familiar face in the crowd of the terminal. Zevran’s waiting by the coffee shop, his face so stoic for a second she’s worried she’s done something to piss him off.

Well, getting captured might do it, but surely he’s not going to yell at her for that, is he?

She walks over to him reluctantly. “Hi,” she says when he doesn’t say anything. She fights to not twitch under his gaze. “I- uh. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Of course I am here,” he snaps. “I would have traveled to Minrathous, but Leliana advised against it. Did you truly think I would not come when I heard?”

“Zevran-”

“Don’t.” His eyes soften, and she can see the almost overwhelming amount of relief within their depths. “I-  _ querida _ , when Leliana told me, I-” he hugs her then, wraps his arms around her so tight it feels like he’s crushing her lungs, but she welcomes it, shaking violently in his arms as the shock sets in at last. The Antivan understands, holding her close to him and whispering encouragements into her ear until she’s able to pull herself together.

“Better?” he asks.

Elise doesn’t trust herself to talk, so she nods instead. Zevran takes her bag from her - it’s just a small backpack with some basic supplies she’s pilfered and pickpocketed, but he slings it over his shoulder and guides her outside to where a small sedan with tinted windows is parked.

She gets into the passenger seat, buckles in her seatbelt. She waits for Zevran to start the car, but he just sits there for several minutes, his hands on the steering wheel.

“You’ve been in trouble before,” he says quietly, staring out of the windshield. “But I had faith in you. And the reassurance that I could step in and help, if you were truly stuck.” He turns to look at her, a haunted look on his face. “This is the first time,  _ querida _ , that I feared that you were-” he shakes his head, unable to finish the sentence.

“I thought- it was-,” she whispers. It was a close call. Even now, Elise is reminded of the way her airway was cut off, how each breath she drew was a struggle. How her vision had first blurred around the edges, then shrank, getting smaller and smaller till all she could see was a small, hazy ring. When Calpernia had returned, that tiny pinprick that heralded the return of her senses had been the greatest relief she’d known. “Zev, I’m sorry.”

“No, do not be,” he sighs, finally letting the engine warm up. “I am-  _ estoy contenta de tenerte de vuelta _ .”

“I’m glad to be back,” she clears her throat - futilely - against the tears that still remain, and lets herself relax against the headrest.

They’re pulling into a private airstrip when she speaks up again. “Zev, not that I’m not happy to see you, but why are you here? I could’ve made my way back to Skyhold myself.”

He grins, bright and cheeky. “Ah, that is true, but your dear Commander has been in  _ such _ a state ever since you went missing  _ querida _ . It was he who persuaded Leliana to continue her search for you-”

Elise’s face falls. Logically, she knows what Leliana did was- well, standard protocol, but it still hurts to hear that her close friend would, had her lover not stepped in, have abandoned her.

Zevran’s hand covers hers, and for a split second his eyes go flat and cold. “I gave her a piece of my mind, do not worry,” he smiles grimly. “Her work under the former Divine must have been truly distasteful indeed, for her to turn so cold. The Leliana I knew was- well, she was deadly, but she was kinder.”

“Makes sense,” she agrees. “From what I heard, Divine Justinia was not very popular among her fellow clerics. Leliana must’ve had her hands full trying to keep Justinia in power.”

“In any case, she asked that I accompany you till you were safely settled in Skyhold,” he’s holding the door open for her like a true gentleman. “And I intend to do just that.”

The aircraft is a small one, and it’s rather uncomfortable being surrounded by so many crates, but it’s taking her closer to Cullen and that’s really all that matters right now. She fidgets with impatience, staring out the small window at the shades of green and brown below them.

“I’m curious,” Zevran’s forehead is scrunched up in that funny way it always does when he’s trying to figure something out. “This dread wolf - you’re sure you don’t know who he is?”

“Absolutely.” She tells him about that trail tag she discovered in her first conversation with Leliana. “That’s pretty much all I know of him. You’re certain Leliana didn’t give the order to release the information?”

He shakes his head. “She informed me that you had been taken by the Venatori, and that she was following up on a lead. When she called again, to pick you up, I could tell she was surprised. She asked if I knew anyone with that moniker, but,” he shrugs. “His actions are… odd, even for a double agent. If he is one.”

“I thought so, too. It doesn’t add up, Zev,” her lips are pursed in thought. “The malware he’s using isn’t like anything I’ve encountered before. It’s not Inquisition standard, and it’s definitely not what the Venatori are using. And even if this dread wolf  _ was _ working for the Venatori-” she shakes her head, baffled. “He could’ve blown my cover multiple times. Not just mine, but other agents too. He could’ve blown the whistle on so many Inquisition operations, but… but it’s like he’s just  _ watching _ . Just watching, and waiting. It’s… I don’t know if that’s something to be concerned about, but it sure as hell isn’t reassuring.”

“Well, regardless of whatever this wolf’s plans may be, I’m happy he decided to intervene on your behalf.”

“I guess,” she sighs. “I’m just… unsettled, I guess? That there’s someone out there who knows I exist, and I have no idea who  _ they _ are. Or what they intend to do.”

* * *

Leliana is scowling, actually scowling, and Elise is astounded. The spymaster is usually so in control of her emotions; whatever’s causing this leak must be bad, indeed. “There’s an issue, isn’t there?” she asks.

“Ah, Elise,” Leliana rushes over, pulls her into the room, and shuts the door before embracing her. “I am incredibly happy to see you. But yes; we have a problem.”

“We?” she raises her brows. “You do realize I just got back, right?”

“I’m well aware. However, this matter concerns Cullen.”

Elise freezes. A ribbon of foreboding begins to unfurl in her chest. “What do you mean?”

“During your absence, we managed to uncover the location of the red lyrium factory,” the spymaster shoves a tablet into Elise’s hands. “The Arbor Wilds. It’s a clever thought; no one really visits there, do they? All it has is a bunch of ruins no one is interested in. Samson - and Corypheus - repurposed one of those ruins for their own.”

The picture she’s staring at is little more than a run down, ruined house. There’s a broken stone wall surrounding it, remnants of the original structure but nothing about it shouts  _ drugs are being produced here! _ She frowns. “It’s a good cover, that’s for sure. Kind of small, I’d think, but maybe they have a basement or something. Doesn’t look like it’s going to be heavily defended, though - so what’s the problem?”

Leliana hands over a folder. Within it, Elise sees several photographs of various vehicles entering and exiting the compound. “I thought that was a sign that Corypheus was shipping red lyrium out of the factory,” the spymaster says grimly. “But I couldn’t find anything about new caches of red lyrium, not even the smallest whispers. And then this morning, I got a correspondence from Calpernia.” Leliana’s jaw is clenched, and there’s tension around her eyes. “They weren’t shipping drugs out, Elise. They were shipping troops  _ in _ .”

“You mean-” her eyes widen in dawning horror.

“Yes. Samson knows that we’ve located his base, and he knows Cullen intends to personally be there to take it down-”

“Fuck.” Elise stares at Leliana. “Cullen’s going to be walking into a trap, isn’t he?” The spymaster nods in the affirmative. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The weight of Zevran’s hand on her shoulder helps to calm her, enough for her to gather herself. “Okay. Okay. We- we can fix this. Okay. When did Cullen leave for the Arbor Wilds?”

“Two days ago. The rest of his group was to meet him there, and they-” Leliana exhales. “They plan to assault the base in-” she checks her watch. “Six hours.”

“ _ Merde _ .” Her exhaustion has given way to stress, her body now running on adrenaline. “Can’t you contact him? Surely there must be a way of-”

“Communications were brought to a halt this morning. Cullen suspected that Samson was attempting to tap into their systems, and he didn’t want to leave anything to chance. There’s no way to contact him. Believe me, I’ve tried.” Leliana looked as grim as she sounded.

“Shit.” Elise shuts her eyes, counts to five, then exhales slowly.  _ Focus. I need to focus. _ There’s got to be  _ something _ she can do. “Leliana, I want to see all the reports you’ve obtained on Samson.”

She pours over all of them with a single minded focus, unaware of everyone else in the room. Samson, she learns, was a former Templar, stationed in Kirkwall with Cullen - which explains his need to confront the Commander. He was dishonorably dismissed by Meredith, and was already in the beginning stages of lyrium madness when he left the Order.

“So he feels as though he were used, and then dismissed,” she mutters to herself, setting aside one report and picking up another. “He’s angry with Cullen, but why?”

“Maybe they did not get along?” Zevran suggests, placing a cup of coffee in front of her. “Or maybe he sees what he could have been in Cullen.”

“It’s a possibility,” she sighs. “This isn’t just a confrontation,” she raises her eyes, a troubled look on her face, to Leliana. “Cullen’s reports say that most of the Venatori troops were pulled back, and I suspect they’re all there in the Arbor Wilds. It doesn’t add up. I doubt Corypheus would approve of Samson using the troops this way, which means that Corypheus doesn’t need Samson any more. He’s got something planned, something big.”

“You think Corypheus is planning to use the Orb again?” Leliana’s voice is fraught with concern.

“It’s very likely, yes. But what Samson’s planning- Leliana, he isn’t confronting Cullen. It’s going to be a showdown. He’s got nowhere to go, and Corypheus has abandoned him. He’s planning to go out in a blaze, Leliana. He’s going to kill himself- and Cullen.”

“ _ Quel salaud” _ , the spymaster hisses. “We cannot let that happen!”

“I have an idea,” and she does. “Is Rylen around?”

The former Knight-Captain soon arrived, looking restless with his brows furrowed. As Cullen’s second-in-command, he was now in charge of the troops. “I assume you have a plan?” he asks gravely once Elise has filled him in on her suspicions.

“The Inquisition has a gunship, yes?” Elise asks. When Rylen nods, she continues, “How long do you think it’ll take for us to get to that base?”

“Two and a half hours; three, if the wind’s against us.”

_ "Merde.” _ Still, it’s not like she’s got any other choice. “Okay. I’m absolutely certain Samson’s going to blow that base up, as a  _ fuck you _ to Corypheus, and he’s going to enjoy taking the Commander out as part of it. We can’t stop him from blowing the place up, but we can get our people out of there. Rylen, we’ll need men. The gunship can provide suppressing fire while we rappel down to the base. This is going to be an extraction, plain and simple. We go in, get our men, and get the fuck out. I’ll track down Cullen; Rylen, you get the rest out.”

Zevran crosses his arms, a scowl on his face. “You are in no condition to do this,  _ querida _ . I will take your place.”

“Absolutely not.” Elise rises from her chair. “I appreciate the concern, Zev, but I’m the one under Inquisition contract. And Cullen’s-” she side-eyes Rylen, decides she doesn’t give a damn. “Cullen’s mine. I have to do this.”

“You’ve lost your mind if you believe I will-” Zevran trails off when she hugs him.

“Faith, Zevran. Have faith.” She pulls away, gives him a resolute look. “Remember?”

He grumbles beneath his breath, then sighs heavily. “ _ Ten cuidado _ .”

“You know I will.”

Leliana’s already giving out orders for gear and equipment, and Rylen nods at her, his attention on the call he’s on. They’re mobilizing as quickly as she can, and Elise uses the time to don her armor and check her weapons, trying to ignore the thrumming of her heart and the dread in her throat.

_ I’m coming, Cullen _ , she thinks. Even the sound of the chopper’s rotor blades isn’t enough to drown out her thoughts.  _ I’m coming _ .

* * *

The assault has already begun by the time they reach the Arbor Wilds. She can hear the sound of gunfire, so rapid it seems incessant, she can hear the shouts of the soldiers operating them, sharply barked orders and loud, clipped acknowledgements. The lines are thrown from the sides of the airship, and Elise waits for the all-clear signal.

She’s the first one down on the ground when it’s given.

She waits for Rylen to catch up, waits for him to give orders to the rest of his men, all the time fighting the urge to scream and just run into the building, where she knows Cullen is, where he’s in danger. It takes a few minutes but the perimeter is cleared, and she steps over several red lyrium tainted corpses on her way to the door. There’s the sound of battle inside, and though she’s still impatient she halts at the sight of Rylen’s raised fist and readies her gun. Then he flings open a door, and her finger’s on the trigger, and she’s rushing in, her aim as careful and precise as she can make it given the chaos. Several of the Inquisition’s men are on the ground, wounded; there’s one with glassy eyes and a pool of red around his chest like grotesque angel wings, and she dimly registers it’s too late for him. 

Rylen barks out a quick order to two soldiers to get the rest out, and then they’re off again, pressing deeper into the heart of this Maker-forsaken place. They’re looking for a basement, she knows. This crumbling ruin is just the cover; below ground is where they’ll find the secrets.

Even with what they have, their explosives and their weapons and their knowledge, it’s still a hard fight. They have to fire from cover, from around corners and behind the little furniture in the place. It doesn't help that their masks reduce their visibility; it’s there to keep them from accidentally inhaling red lyrium, but it greatly impedes their peripheral vision. 

One of the men next to Elise goes down, his helmet unable to protect against a point-blank shot; she only just manages to duck out of the way. Her military training kicks in and she throws a fist out, catching her would-be assailant in the solar plexus; he doubles over with a grunt, and then she takes the shot. He crumples to the ground, face still twisted into the hateful snarl he’d been wearing throughout.

It’s only after they’ve cleared out the majority of the basement that Elise and Rylen stop to take a breather. “The machines- they look like they haven’t been running for a while,” Elise remarks with a frown. 

Before Rylen can reply, they’re interrupted by a tense, “Uh, Captain? You have to look at this.” Elise and Rylen share a look before going over to the man’s side. There’s a small clock by the largest of the machines, counting down.

“ _ Merde _ !” Elise hisses. “It’s a timer.”

“Ten minutes,” Rylen inhales sharply. He glances at Elise. “We haven’t found the Commander yet…”

She makes a snap decision. “Rylen, get everyone out. I’ll keep looking for the Commander.”

“But-” 

“We don’t have time! Get everyone out of here!” she grips his forearm in that time-honored gesture of respect. “I’ll get Cullen out, I promise.”

“You better be with him,” his eyes are narrowed as he makes the demand. She nods tersely, and he claps her on the back. Rylen presses a finger to his earpiece and gives the command to retreat, but Elise only barely hears him. Her focus is on the door ahead, the one that’s painted red. She doesn’t know what waits for her behind it, but instinct is screaming at her that Cullen’s there, he’s there and there has to be a reason why he hasn’t reacted to the sound of their arrival-

She takes a deep breath, checks how much ammunition she has left - not enough for her comfort, but it’ll have to do. Her grip on her gun is so tight her knuckles are screaming, but she doesn’t ease up.

She pushes the door open, slowly. Peeks through the gap.

Growls beneath her breath.

Cullen’s there, just standing there, his pistol raised. And he’s got it pointed at-

Samson.

The man is dishevelled, his greasy, thinning hair plastered to his scalp. His cheeks are hollowed out, cheekbones standing in sharp relief the way they’re pressed against his skin. His skin - what she can see of it - is covered in patches of boils, and even at this distance she can see that they’re weeping a tar-like red liquid.

There’s a strange, sharp scent that hits her nose, even through the mask. It’s cloying and makes her gag, reminds her of bitter almonds and rotting eggs.

She returns her focus to the scene before her. She can’t make out what Samson has in his hand, but whatever it is, it’s enough to keep Cullen from firing. Her Commander doesn’t look like he’s aware of the timer counting down - it’s something she needs to remedy, but how?

Elise is spared from having to come up with a plan when Samson’s eyes land on her. “We have company,” he grins, his teeth stained orange, gums white and bloodless. “Come in, come in. Join us.”

She lifts her gun up, ready to act at Samson’s slightest misstep. Her eyes fixed on Samson’s location, she calls out to Cullen, “There’s a timer on this place, Commander. We need to evacuate ASAP.”

“Oh, he’s going nowhere,” Samson replies, the smirk on his face making Elise want to punch him. “Are you,  _ Commander _ ?”

Cullen doesn’t look at her. “Get out of here, Elise,” his voice is low, more an order than a statement.

She’s bewildered, and panicking. The timer is still running down. Why isn’t Cullen moving? Why is he just standing there? “Cullen, we have to get out now!”

“GET OUT, ELISE!” he bellows.

“Come now, Cullen, can’t you see the poor girl’s confused?” Samson  _ tsks _ in mock sympathy. “It’s rude to keep her in the dark, don’t you think? If you won’t explain, I suppose I’ll have to. You see,” he turns to Elise, “There’s a whole lotta red lyrium in here, and I-” he raises his hand up. It’s wrapped around something; she can just make out a…  _ is that a fucking button? _ “-I have the trigger. One light push, and this room is flooded with the stuff.” Samson turns back to Cullen, snarls. “A fitting end, I think, for two old, washed up Templars.”

“Cullen’s not washed up,” her brain’s running through all possible scenarios, but every one ends in a very resolute  _ not good _ . She doesn’t know how to get out of this - not in one piece, anyway.

“And how do you know that?” Samson peers closely at her, and she fights not to shudder at the mad leer in his eyes. “Hmmm. A new bedmate, Cullen, old boy? You’ve been quite busy in your shiny new life, haven’t you?” He turns to her again, hatred in his gaze and on his tongue. “We were both stationed in Kirkwall. He ever tell you that? Meredith’s golden boy, he was, could do no wrong. Didn’t see the rest of us wallowing in the muck. Brothers-in-arms, we were, and he did fuckall for us. For  _ me _ .” 

“I had nothing to do with-” Cullen’s jaw ticks.

“ _ Bullshit _ . You knew, just like everyone else did, that I was dismissed unfairly.  _ Behavior unbecoming a soldier, _ ” he mocks, “meanwhile I was dyin’ from the lyrium and Meredith couldn’t give a damn about that. Well, fuck her, and fuck you too, Rutherford. The lyrium brought us here, and it’ll be the lyrium that takes us out-” Elise screams and fires her gun as Samson presses the trigger.

Instantly, the room is filled with a dense cloud of red. She’s freaking out - she can’t see Cullen, can’t see Samson, can barely see her hand that’s in front of her face. “Cullen!” she howls. “Cullen!”

There’s no sound. Her heart’s in her throat, and she’s fighting off despair, fighting against the instinct to turn and flee. Her foot hits something solid. She drops to her haunches. It’s a body… she waves her hand to clear away as much of the dispersed dust as she can. It’s Cullen, and he’s curled up into a ball, trembling violently.

_ The drug, _ she panics.  _ He’s inhaled the drug _ . Without a second thought, she detaches her respirator and fits it over his nose. The red lyrium hits her at full blast, her eyes and nose watering even though she’s holding her breath.  _ Maker, what do I do, _ she despairs. She can’t carry Cullen out, she isn’t strong enough.

With a prayer whispered up to the heavens, she grabs hold of his feet, and starts to drag him out of the room. It’s slow progress, made harder by the fact that Cullen keeps kicking out, fighting against her, but she keeps going. Elise is aware she’s not in a very good state - she feels like there’s something crawling beneath her skin, she’s seeing demons from the corners of her eyes, and there’s a deep, dark burning in her lungs and her stomach. She manages to pull him to the base of the stairs where the air is clearer,  _ cleaner _ , before she gives out, collapsing over him.  _ How much time do they have before this place blows up? _ She can’t fail him, she can’t. 

“Cullen,” she lifts an arm that feels like it weighs a ton, taps his face. “Cullen, please, get up. Cullen, we have to get out- Cullen- Cullen…” She thinks she feels him shifting beneath her, but she’s too far gone now; there’s too much of the drug in her bloodstream. She can’t feel her body anymore. It’s too much effort to keep her eyes open. She needs to- sleep, yes, that’s it, all she has to do is close her eyes and just rest, and- Wasn’t there something important, something she needs to do? Oh, it’s probably nothing; it can’t be, if she can’t seem to remember it. 

Ahh, it’s such a relief to close her eyes. So much easier here, in the darkness. Her breathing slows, begins to stutter, but she doesn’t register it.

“Elise?” his voice is coming from so far away. “Elise, no, Maker- Elise, stay with me, please-”


	19. Closing in

The steady beep of the machines had been rather soothing when she first woke up in the ward, but two weeks later and she’s ready to pull her hair out. Elise glowers at the small screen that’s displaying her vitals.

All entirely normal, as they have been for the past few days. But no, she hasn’t been discharged yet, and she knows, she just  _ knows _ it’s Cullen’s doing.

The door swings open, and the head doctor, Fiona, walks in. The middle-aged elven woman gives a sympathetic smile in response to Elise’s hopeful look and shakes her head. Elise groans. “Oh, come on, doctor. You have to let me out of here!” She jerks a thumb towards the cart that houses the medical monitors. “They  _ all _ say I’m normal. I’m better, Fiona, you know I am.”

Fiona pulls the stethoscope from around her neck and spends several moments listening to her airways. When she’s done, she tucks the instrument into the pocket of her lab coat. “Your vitals are all normal, yes. But you inhaled a great deal of red lyrium, and we don’t know exactly how it works, what it does, or if it has an incubation period. I know it’s frustrating, but I’m sorry. We do need to keep you under observation for the time being.”

Elise throws her head back and groans.

“It’s for your own good, Ms. Vidal.”

She blinks at the doctor, an unamused look on her face. “Do you have any idea how  _ boring _ it is being cooped up in here? I have no company, and there’s only so many of those fennec videos I can watch. I need some  _ action _ , Fiona. I need to get back to work!”

“If you want to work, you’ll have to take that up with the Commander.”

She groans again, runs a hand down her face. “You  _ know _ he won’t let me. I don’t know why-”

“Perhaps it’s because  _ you nearly died _ .” Cullen’s standing at the doorway, his arms crossed, a deep scowl on his face. “ _ Twice _ . And that’s without taking into account your ordeal with the Venatori. Why you still insist on returning to work given all that you’ve been through defeats me. If you refuse to take care of yourself, then I’m going to have to do it for you.”

“I’ll leave you two to, ahh… discuss things,” Fiona’s lips quirk up in amusement and she beats a strategic retreat.

“The key word here is  _ nearly _ , Commander,” Elise narrows her eyes. “I  _ nearly _ died, yes, but I didn’t. And I’ve been in the hospital for enough time with little more to do than twiddle my thumbs, so yes, I would very much like to leave and do something else. Like, oh, I don’t know,  _ my job. _ ” She’s tired of having this argument with him, tired of him coddling her to the point of claustrophobia. She wants to be out and about, damn it, wants to get back to work, wants to feel  _ useful _ once more. “Injuries in the line of duty are, as I’m sure you’re aware, very common. Are we really going to discuss this yet again?”

“Nearly-” he bites off whatever he was going to say, the muscles of his jaw ticking with the effort. “Is that meant to reassure me?” he steps into the room, shuts the door behind him. “Because it doesn’t. You’re not invincible, Elise. You-” his eyes close, and he pinches the bridge of his nose. Cullen’s forehead is furrowed as though he’s recalling a particularly difficult memory. “Your heart  _ stopped beating _ on the way back to Skyhold. You were out for  _ three days _ . Maker, I-” his throat bobs up and down as he swallows. She can see the anguish on his face, averted away from her as it is. “I didn’t know if you would-” he whispers in a choked sob before he turns away from her entirely. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, his shoulders hunched.

“Cullen?” she calls out in concern.

“You should have left, when I told you to,” he swivels on his foot, pins her with the emotion in his not-quite-glare. “I gave the order, and damn it, you should have obeyed!”

“You really expected me to leave you there to die?” she snorts derisively. There’s the tell-tale slow throb behind her right eye that’s spreading out towards her temple, and she knows she’s going to have a raging headache at the end of- of whatever this is, but she’s not going to back down. 

“Yes!” he exclaims, moving closer to her. “Yes. That is what- I- you put all those people in danger, coming after me. You put yourself in danger, and- promise me you won’t ever do that again-”

“Cullen.” She holds a hand up, to stop his rambling. “Let’s get some things clear,” she spits out with indignant rage. “First off, I work for the Inquisition, yes, and I’ve been assigned to you, but we both know I get my orders from Leliana. Therefore I have full liberty to ignore any of your orders should I choose to, and at that time? I chose to disregard your command. Second, had Rylen and I not come along, we would’ve lost a lot more men to Samson and his red templars. It was a risky tactic, yes, but it paid off - and let’s be honest here, if we’re talking about risky tactics, what about your maneuver in Haven? Triggering an avalanche to deliberately bury a town -  _ when it’s still occupied! _ \- isn’t risky?” She shakes her head, reaches out for his hand. It’s still in his pocket, but she contents herself with wrapping her fingers around his wrist, tugging him closer to her side. “But most importantly, Cullen,  _ I love you _ . Do you really think I was going to leave you there to die? Because if that’s what you think, then- then I’m really disappointed.” She can feel the tears well up in her eyes and tries to furiously blink them away.

“I didn’t deserve it.” He still can’t meet her eyes.

“You don’t get to decide that. Hell, Cullen, how do you think I’d have been if something had happened to you?” her voice breaks, just the slightest. “I’m never going to leave you behind, ever, and don’t you fucking  _ ever _ ask that of me again.” She doesn’t know all the details, of course, but she’s overheard enough to know that the red lyrium also hit him hard. Even now, she can see the lines around his mouth that speak of overexertion and the deep bags beneath his eyes. His skin is too pale for her liking. She tugs his hand towards her, and he lets her. She places a kiss on his palm, presses it to her cheek. “What’s important is that we’re both okay,” she murmurs. “And that we’re together. Isn’t that what matters the most?”

He sighs, sits on the bed by her thighs. “You’re still not allowed to get back to work.”

“Oh, come on,” she huffs. “How is it fair that you’re back to work, but I have to stay here and rest?”

“Because I’m the Commander, and I say so.”

“Cullen, please,” she pleads. “Look, I’m getting bored out of my mind.  _ Please _ let me do something. Hell, if I can’t get out of here, at least let me work from here? I’ll scan records, decrypt Venatori servers - there’s so much stuff I can do from my computer, you know that.”

He sighs again, rubs the back of his neck. “I suppose that’s true,” Cullen grudgingly concedes. “Fine. I’ll talk to the doctors about getting you a discharge-” he narrows his eyes when she lets out a whoop of joy. “- _ if _ , and only if, you agree to some conditions.”

“What kind of conditions?”

“You will remain in Skyhold for the foreseeable future,” he counts off on his fingers, “you will see Dr. Fiona twice a day, and you will restrict yourself to only the kind of tasks you can accomplish on your computer. If you break any of them, I’ll have you back here. I mean it, Elise.”

She lets out a long-suffering groan. “Fiiiiiiiine.”

He smiles at that, a small, genuine one, leans in and kisses her forehead. “Cheer up, darling,” his breath, warm and minty, fans over her face. “It’s for your-”

“I know, I know,” she grumbles. “It’s for my own good,” she mocks, making air quotes with her fingers.

Cullen breaks out into a full-bodied laugh, and she can’t help but follow.

* * *

There’s a great deal of sifting through mountains of data in espionage work, which Elise is aware of, but  _ Maker _ this is just-

“ _ Ugh! _ ” she throws her hands into the air. “What the  _ fuck _ did I just read?”

Solas chuckles softly from behind her. She hears the soft whirr as he rolls his chair towards her to look over her shoulder. A few seconds later, he’s laughing again. “I believe that is a theory on the bowel movements of Divine Galatea. Apparently, she did not visit the bathroom on Sundays.”

“No, I know what it says,” she’s shaking her head. “Why for the love of Andraste’s saggy tits would anyone want to  _ write _ about it, let alone  _ read _ it? More importantly, why did I just have to read it?” She groans again. “I need some eye bleach.”

“A break will do you some good,” Solas agrees.

Elise stands, stretches her arms over her head, wincing at the soft crack her shoulder makes. “Want to join me? We could pop over to the café. It’s Tuesday, they’ll have those petit-fours you enjoy.”

Solas cocks his head. “Did I mention my fondness for cake to you?”

Elise grins. “Nope. But anybody who isn’t entirely blind could see just how voracious you are when it comes to sponge cake, Solas. You practically wolf them down!”

The elven hacker’s cheeks turn a faint pink. “I do not think I-”

“Hey, relax,” she gives him a friendly jostle with her elbow. “I’m just kidding. If it matters so much to you, I’ll tell you flat out that I love chocolate. Not the kind you get everywhere, but those fancy ones, truffles, you know? My absolute weakness,” she winks at him.

He relaxes. “I could do with some stretching,” he concedes. “And those cakes are rather well-made.” he gives her a lopsided smile.

“Great. Let me just run this script-” she types in a series of commands. 

“Are you activating the security feed at Haven? I thought the Inquisition had shut it down? All that is left in the area are ruins.”

“I know that,” Elise is fixated on the screen, “but... I dunno. Call it a hunch.”

“You believe Corypheus will return to the scene of the crime?”

“I think it’s a possibility. He’s certainly got the ego for it.”

The elf  _ hmms _ thoughtfully. “I concur,” he murmurs, his eyes taking in the images on the screen. “The Inquisition has thwarted all his other plans. He has lost his influence in Orlais, and with the Wardens, and he has lost his lieutenants. But he is too arrogant to concede defeat graciously.”

“He’s up to something. I know it.” Elise presses the enter key with some force.

“He likely is. We must be prepared for anything.”

“We will be,” she states with a vehement nod. “We’re going to bring that bastard down; I just know it.” They make their way to Skyhold’s café in comfortable silence. Despite the fact that the Inquisitor is currently away from the base, there’s a great deal of hustle and bustle. Even the café is at full capacity; Elise sighs when she spots a familiar face. It’s a  _ tallis _ , one of Par Vollen’s non-qunari spies; she’ll have to give Iron Bull the heads up.

“You are quite certain that the Inquisition will be victorious,” Solas remarks. “That certainty is refreshing.” He neatly cuts into the slice of tiramisu he’s ordered for himself. “Do you have any plans for what you will do next when this is all over?”

“Are you telling me you don’t have a place for me in your organization?” Elise gasps in mock-horror, holding her hand up to her chest for exaggerated effect. “Solas, I’m offended!”

He shakes his head at her antics, a small, indulging smile on his mouth. “There will always be a place for you, Elise, should you wish it. But would you not wish for a break? Take a vacation, perhaps?”

“Oh, Maker, yes,” she sighs wistfully. “A vacation sounds  _ fantastic. _ Somewhere near the beach, I think, warm sun and those drinks with the little umbrellas in them…” she sighs again. “I need some downtime after all this for sure. What about you? Any international travel in the near future?”

“Travel, yes, but somewhat work-related, I’m afraid,” he chews carefully, then swallows before continuing. “I intend to meet with an old friend of mine. She has something that we both believe would benefit my- my organization’s cause greatly.”

“Oh, that’s interesting. Is she a politician? Or just a rich donor?”

His lips twitch with amusement, as though he knows something she doesn’t. It strikes her then, that for all the time they’ve spent together, she doesn’t  _ really _ know Solas. She knows some of his habits, and some of his mannerisms, but there are times - like this moment - where she has a strange, peculiar feeling like he’s got some kind of a mask on, as though he’s playing a role for reasons only he knows. It’s disconcerting.

He blinks at her, a questioning look on his face. “Is something the matter?” he asks, and it’s then she realizes she’s scowling.

“Ahh, sorry,” she apologizes half-heartedly. “I just-” she shakes her head. “Too much coffee, I think,” she pushes the nearly-empty cup away from her, deciding she’s probably had enough for the day. “Makes me all twitchy and paranoid,” she sighs. “Anyway, you were going to say something? About your friend?”

Solas doesn’t look entirely convinced at her explanation, but he’s gracious enough not to press her. “Ah, yes. She is- well, a bit of both, really. She was very wealthy once, but despite her diminished financial status she’s agreed to generously donate what she can.”

“That’s very kind of her.”

“She has her reasons to do so, I’m sure.”

“I hope it works out for you,” she says, and means it. 

“Thank you. I hope so, too.”

* * *

Leliana’s standing in front of the giant table, staring down at the holographic map of the Temple of Sacred Ashes. It isn’t accurate; there are no blueprints for the Temple, and it’s been built and rebuilt so many times no one can really say with any measure of certainty what kind of features it might contain beneath the surface. One part of the map’s lit up; it’s a small area many levels below ground. The hood of the outfit she’s wearing casts almost the entirety of her face in shadow, but Elise can make out that the spymaster’s lips are pressed thin.

“What is that?”

“I don’t know if it has an actual name, but we’ve nicknamed it the Gauntlet. It’s… in all honesty, we don’t know if it actually exists, but we have good reason to believe it does-”

“What does it do?” the spymaster’s voice is clipped with impatience.

“We believe it is… a command center, of sorts,” Solas explains. “It is where Corypheus likely began his decryption of the Orb, before he was interrupted. It seems reasonable that he would return to complete it-”

“I thought he had already decrypted the Orb? Wasn’t that how he was able to use it in the first place?”

“I thought so, at first. But his actions lead me to believe that it was incomplete.”

“Explain, please.”

“The Orb, when decrypted, allows access to several ancient weapons scattered throughout Thedas - weapons capable of mass destruction, as evidenced by what happened at the Conclave. If Corypheus truly had unfettered access to the Orb, he would have suffered no defeat. He could have very easily thwarted the Inquisition, indeed, he could have laid waste to all of Thedas. That he did not-”

“Indicates that his preliminary attempt at decryption was unsuccessful,” Leliana’s stoicism gives way to perturbation. “You think he’s going to return to this Gauntlet to complete what he set out to do.”

Elise exchanges a look with Solas. He gives her a small nod, giving her the go-ahead. “He’s already in the Temple, Leliana. He triggered the security cameras in Haven-” she types something into the spymaster’s computer, pulls up a video feed. The three watch as a figure, dressed in arctic camouflage, trudges through the almost knee-deep snow. 

“Are you certain his goal is this Gauntlet?” It could be-”

A dwarf bursts into the room, sending the door crashing into the wall. “Ma’am? Urgent report from Agent Charter-” the stocky woman, finding three sets of eyes trained on her, takes a step backward. “I apologize for the interruption,” she stammers, “but ma’am, you should- you need to take this.” She hands a phone to the spymaster. Elise recognizes the bulky black rectangle as a satellite phone.

Leliana takes the device, moves over to the far side of the room, and holds a whispered conversation. The conversation’s too hushed for Elise to eavesdrop. Whatever’s going on doesn’t sound like it’s anything good.

“ _ Merde _ ,” Leliana strides over, her cheekbones flushed, and her eyes bright with anger. “The Inquisitor is missing.”

“Lady Trevelyan? How-  _ how _ ?” Elise is baffled. “I thought she was in Denerim?”

“She was returning to Skyhold, traveling incognito. No one knew of her travel plans save myself, and the ambassador. But now she’s gone missing!”

Elise immediately  _ knows _ what the Inquisitor’s fate was; judging by the look on Solas’ face, he shares her concern. “I bet Corypheus has her,” she bursts out. “I bet he had her kidnapped. That’s why he’s returning to the Temple!”

“It seems likely that he plans to use the Inquisitor as a statement. It was what he did with Divine Justinia, after all.” Solas adds, his brows knitted together.

She nods emphatically. “Exactly. It’s symbolic, don’t you see? By having Jillian killed, he’s destroying Thedas’ savior, so to speak. He’s going to use the Gauntlet to fully decrypt the Orb, then he’s going to use it to publicly execute Jillian, just like he did with Justinia!”

Leliana is still - too still. She is like a snake primed, ready to lash out and strike. When she finally speaks, it’s hissed through gritted teeth; “We appear to have a mole in our midst, but we have more pressing matters to deal with at the moment-” The spymaster turns, picks up her tablet, and types into it. In the next few moments, Elise watches Leliana flow across the room, making calls and issuing commands, gathering as much intel as she can before a decision is reached. Unwilling to interfere, but unable to sit still, Elise makes her way to Leliana’s desk and sits in her chair. Her fingers fly over the keyboard as she pulls up various communiques; she delves deeper into the system, scanning the code of the software, the tags on the emails, until-

“Shit.”

That word, said as softly as it was, is still enough to capture Leliana’s attention. “What is it?” the spymaster is at Elise’s side in an instant.

Unable to believe her eyes, Elise settles instead for pointing at the screen. There, hidden deep in the script of the Inquisition’s email servers, is a familiar tag.

<thedreadwolf:trailtag>

“Andraste preserve us,” Leliana murmurs. “Has this been there this entire time?”

“Yes.” Elise can’t believe it. She can’t. For fuck’s sake, she’d personally scrubbed Leliana’s system. How had it turned up again?

Who the fuck was this dread wolf?

“I don’t understand,” she mutters beneath her breath, still scanning the system. “Why now? What do they want?” She doesn’t hear Leliana dismiss the scout, doesn’t hear her ask Solas to leave the room.

“Elise.” She jerks her head up, finds Leliana resting by a desk, her arms crossed. “You and I, we’ve known each other for many years now,  _ n’est ce pas _ ?”

“Yes,” Elise replies cautiously. 

“We’ve never lied to each other.”

“Not deliberately, no.”

Leliana uncrosses her arms, rests one hand on a silver drawer handle. “Tell me the truth. This dread wolf tag- was it you?”

Elise registers the question. Stares blankly at Leliana as her brain processes it. When it hits her, she rises to her feet, outraged. “You think I sold out Jillian? Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Jealousy, perhaps,” Leliana is unruffled. “Or perhaps you wanted vengeance. What better way to punish your father?”

Her hands are clenched into fists; Elise can feel her nails digging into her palm. Her pulse is ticking violently by her jaw. She forces herself to draw in a breath, and let it out; the fury is within her, a veritable flood, and she’s legitimately concerned she’s going to say something absolutely vile and terrible if she doesn’t regain her sense of control.

She manages to rein in her temper; only narrowly, but it’s something. Her chin raised, her lips unconsciously curled up into a snarl as she speaks. “Are you- fucking hell, Leliana, listen to yourself. Just stop, take a moment, and  _ really _ listen to yourself. ”

“I am. You were the one who brought my attention to the malware in the first place, yes. But you could have easily put it there yourself. You claim to have scrubbed my computers, but it could have been a pretense-”

“You think I got myself captured as part of the ruse?” Elise challenges. “That I freed myself?”

“Perhaps you were working for Corypheus all along.”

“You really think I did…  _ this _ … to get back at Bann Trevelyan?” she’s incredulous. “Leliana, if I wanted revenge, or whatever shit you seem to think I want, I could’ve done it  _ years _ ago. I had ample opportunity. If I really wanted Jillian dead, she would already be dead. Why would I make up this weird, elaborate ruse just to kill my half-sister? What kind of sense does that make?”

There’s a terse, tense silence. Elise keeps her gaze fixed on Leliana, even as she mentally takes stock of what she could do if this turns out badly. This is- this is all wrong. She can’t believe Leliana - her friend! - would think so low of her. “Think about it,” she presses her advantage, seeing Leliana’s doubt in the way she’s grimacing and gnawing on her lip. 

The spymaster breaks eye contact and exhales. She rolls her shoulders, strain leaving her form. “You’re right.” She shuts her eyes, shakes her head, letting out a strangled-sounding laugh. “You’re right.  _ Je suis un crétin _ . Elise, I- forgive me. I jumped to conclusions-”

“Fucking hell, Leliana.” She can’t help the increase in volume; she’s absolutely incensed. “I thought we were  _ friends _ .  _ You _ asked  _ me _ for help.  _ You _ practically  _ abandoned _ me when I was captured. And after all that, you have the gall to accuse me of  _ treason _ ? Fuck you!”

“You have every right to be angry at me-”

“You think?” Elise hisses. She crosses her arms over her chest, glares at the other woman.

Leliana’s hands are outstretched. “Your outrage is valid, and I recognize that- that my baseless, uncalled-for accusations could- will- alter our friendship. I hope not, but- but I will accept the consequences. Elise, I’m sorry, truly. I- I needed someone to blame, and- unjustly, irrationally, my mind settled on you.”

Her temper - and her pride - are not so easily soothed. “That’s it? You pounce on me, fling shit at me, and you think a simple apology will make up for it?”

“No, of course not. But- but we don’t have  _ time _ , Elise. Jillian is still missing, and Corypheus needs to be stopped, Once this is all over-" Leliana places a hand on Elise's shoulder, her grip light and cautious, " I promise, I swear I will make it up to you. But I can’t, not this moment. Surely you understand."

“You’ve  _ changed _ , Leliana. I thought- even after Marjolaine, you were kinder. What did Justinia do to you that’s made you so cold-hearted?”

Leliana stiffens and turns away from Elise. “The Divine has a long reach,” she says, her voice devoid of emotion. “But it is always her left hand that stretches out.” She places both palms on the desk; her head is bowed. “A thousand lies. A thousand deaths. Her commands, but my conscience that bore the consequences.”

The anger fizzles from her. Elise looks at Leliana and sees a woman hardened through the demands that others have made. She realizes, now, that Justinia must have used Leliana the way Marjolaine used her, and for a moment, she’s fiercely glad Justinia is dead. “Do you know,” she says softly, moving to stand next to the spymaster. She rests her butt against the grand oak table, turns to look at the spymaster. “I still remember what you told me the first time we met, all those years ago.”

There’s no reply, but she doesn’t expect one. “I thought you were just a Chantry sister,” she huffs a soft laugh. “I’d just wrapped up my first case as a Seeker-”

“A group of murderous cultists who targeted children. Yes, I remember.”

“My faith was shaken,” Elise stares unseeingly at the door. “They prayed to Andraste even as they-” she trails off. “And you, you told me that faith was like a rose, blooming even amidst thorny branches. You said strength lives in an open heart. That light has no fear of the darkness. Do you remember?”

“How long ago that seems.”

“You don’t have to be what Marjolaine and Justinia wanted you to be anymore, Leliana. They are dead. You can be whoever  _ you _ want to be. Let the past go,  _ mon ami _ .”

“I don’t have a choice-”

“There is always a choice! You know this. You’ve always known this. What would that Chantry sister in Lothering say to you?”

The silence hangs heavy in the air for what feels like an eternity before Leliana sighs. It’s a soft, sad sound. “She would tell me that… I’m more than this. More than what they made me.” There’s another long pause. “I- I do not know if I can, but I will try.” The spymaster glances at Elise, a newfound softness in her eyes. “Thank you, my friend. And for what it is worth- I am truly sorry for- for everything.”

Elise understands. She shifts reaches out and pulls the older woman into a tight, warm embrace.

Leliana pulls away, a tad reluctantly, and lets out a shaky laugh, the sound thick and wet. “I have missed this.”

“Me too.” Elise has to clear her throat before speaking again. “I suppose we should get back to business.” She turns her focus to the holographic map. The Gauntlet is still illuminated by a cold blue light, and there are red lights blinking at several locations, indicating where the security cameras have been triggered. “How certain are you that this dread wolf was the one to leak Jillian’s location?" She rests a hip against the large oak desk. "I mean, he did save me when he had no reason to.”

“Maybe he had a reason, but you don’t know what it is - yet,” Leliana grimly remarks. “Only Josephine and I knew of the Inquisitor’s plans, Elise. And, as you have discovered, this dread wolf. It stands to reason that he is the culprit.”

“But  _ why _ ?” Elise wonders. “Why save me, but betray Jillian?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”


	20. The end is nigh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elise sets out to track down the Orb.

Two hours later, she’s waiting in the small, chilly Skyhold hangar, reviewing her orders. She’s been tasked, along with Solas, to infiltrate the Gauntlet and disable the Orb - and retrieve it, if possible. Cullen’s several feet away, addressing the men he’s going to be travelling with, but she can feel his gaze on her.

When he’s done, she raises her head, and watches him walk over to where she’s standing. “I don’t like this,” he begins without preamble. “I don’t know if you’re healthy enough to-”

“I know.” Uncaring of who might be watching, she gets on her tiptoes and presses her lips to his. “But there’s little choice, my love.”

He still looks troubled, but he takes her hands between his, strokes her palm with his thumb. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I will.”

Cullen gives her fingers, gloved as they are, a gentle squeeze, then leans down to rest his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he says quietly.

She closes her eyes, breathes in the scent of him. She doesn’t want him to go, doesn’t want him to risk himself in the attempt to rescue her half-sister. If she had to pick between the two, she’d pick Cullen a thousand times over with no hesitation. But she knows him; he has a good, sturdy heart and strong morals. It’s why he’s personally leading his team. “ _ Je t’aime, mon coeur _ . Be safe out there. You will come back to me, won’t you?”

He smiles, that crooked one that lifts the tiny scar on his lip and lights up his amber eyes, the one that he has only for her. “Nothing could keep me from you, Elise.” His words, whispered as they are, hold a deep promise within them, and it warms her heart and lends strength to her bones. She holds him tight, content with the feel of him against her, warm and enveloping and so, so protective. Her hands run over the broad expanse of his shoulders and back, trying, as best as she can, to give him a last-minute massage, to ease his stress.

There’s the loud buzz of a siren, and the hangar doors jerk as they begin to slide open. She sighs. “Duty calls.”

“As it does.” He kisses her then, soft, tender, a kiss filled with luck and hope and love. “I’ll see you soon, darling.”

“You better,” she smiles, but it’s forced. “Good luck, Commander. Take that bastard down.”

“Likewise, agent.”

There’s no time to fret and worry, no time to wonder about whether or not he’ll be safe, or if she’ll be able to go back to him, because she’s discussing infiltration plans with Solas on the flight, and the next thing she knows they’re in the middle of a heavy snowstorm in the ruins of Haven and she’s really, really tired of the way her feet sink into the snow; tired of the way the howling wind makes it hard to her to hear her partner, tired of the way the drifting snow drastically reduces visibility; Andraste’s ass, how is she meant to find the tunnel-

“Over here!”

She goes over to where Solas is standing. The hat on his head is slightly askew, and his nose and cheeks are red from the cold. There’s a small steel grate on the ground that he’s partially uncovered with his foot. She squats, and brushes off the rest of the snow covering it. There’s a hinge on one side, and a handle on the other, and she knows that this is definitely a tunnel entrance. She tries the handle, half-expecting it to be locked, but it gives a loud groan and opens up.

She glances up at Solas. “Ready?”

He nods.

She pulls out a glow stick from her pack, cracks it, and drops it down the hole. The dull green light illuminates the darkness, and she takes several moments to make sure there’s no nasty surprise lying in wait. Satisfied, she jumps down, her pistol out and ready by the time Solas joins her.

The tunnel’s wide at the start, but narrows down a few feet in, so that they have to move sideways through it. Elise doesn’t like it; between the freezing temperature and the icy stone that envelopes her, she feels like she’s being entombed. She starts to breathe quicker, harsher, trying to block out the panic that’s starting to bubble up in her stomach.

“Are you well?” Solas asks from behind her, concern ripe in his voice.

“Yeah. Let’s keep moving.”

“ _ Lethallin _ .” She feels his hand on her shoulder, but keeps her face averted. “Look at me. Please.”

Reluctantly, she does. His eyes are kind, and his furrowed forehead smooths out when he sees the expression on her face. “You are in distress.”

“It’s this place,” she mutters, dropping her faze to the floor. “It feels like a… I’m not usually claustrophobic, but…”

“Close your eyes.” She does. “Breathe in, slowly. Focus on the way the air fills your lungs. Now, hold your breath for as long as you can. Pay attention to that burn. Exhale. Let your breath out slowly, evenly. You are not trapped. You are not immobile. You are not alone-”

She thinks of Cullen, who is on his way to challenge Corypheus. Corypheus, who is currently decrypting the Orb. Who, if he succeeds, will use the weapon on the man she loves.

Her eyes fly open. She’s filled with urgency now, with determination. She finds Solas still looking at her patiently, and gives him a faint smile. “Thank you,” she says.

“Of course.”

There’s another mile or so of the narrow tunnels. The deeper they venture in, the narrower the tunnels get, till Solas is struggling to move between the walls. She wonders if this is a false trail, if there’s a dead end waiting for them- but to her immense relief, the passage widens, and she can see faint light trickling in.

“We’re close,” she whispers to the elf. He nods.

A few minutes later, they encounter a door. It’s got a lockpad, the red lights around the keys blinking red. It’s easy enough to locate the wires, and hook them up to a descrambler. 

“9-4-1-2-9-4-3” Solas reads off the code. She types it in, hits the enter key, and with a soft  _ beep _ , the red lights turn green, and the door swings open.

Elise stealthily slides into the room, muscles tense, eyes alert and scanning the room. She can’t quite believe it exists, but it does.

She’s in the Gauntlet.

It’s a small room, smaller than she’d expected anyway. A large console takes up the majority of the space, and several of the screens that are hanging from the ceiling flicker with static. Tattered, threadbare tapestries hang on the walls. The furniture scattered throughout the room - elaborate, elegantly carved ironbark chairs with the seats covered in faded, dusty velvet, tables that are coated in grime and rot, even a rusted cabinet with its doors hanging off the hinges, tell a tale of a room that’s been undiscovered and unexplored - until now. Elise steps further into the room, heart pounding with anxiety and awe, her sharp eyes taking in every inch of the room, taking note of the shadows that could bear an as-yet unseen enemy. The room is still, and eerily quiet, so quiet she can’t hear her own footsteps. There's a door on the top of a flight of stairs on the far end of the room, and as she makes her way towards it-

Her foot presses down on one of the tiles. She stares down at it, eyes wide, then her gaze flickers to where Solas is. He hasn’t noticed anything, too mesmerized by the console and the possibilities it represents.

_ Fuck _ .

“Solas,” she whispers, catching his attention. “I’ve- I think I’ve triggered a pressure plate.”

He curses. “Wait there.”

“Right, like I’m going to go somewhere after this,” she huffs. 

He makes his way to her, gets on his haunches. She can hear him muttering something beneath his breath. “What is it?”

Solas looks up at her. “This trap is new.”

“New?”

“The Gauntlet is ancient,” he explains. “The traps it has are triggered if anyone not of elven blood enters. But this one- this is new.”

“Maybe that’s why I triggered it, because I’m not of elven blood?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “My presence would be sufficient to nullify the defenses.”

“How do you know-”

He ignores her. “Furthermore, the ancient elves would not use anything this crude.”

Elise frowns. “I mean, sure, it’s crude, but apparently quite effective. Just tell me what it does, and how to disable it.”

He sighs, gets to his feet, pulls out his revolver. “I cannot see a way to disarm it. The trap has already been triggered. Now we will learn what it does. Step out.”

She released the pressure on the plate. As soon as she does, there’s a groaning and whirring on one side of the room, and an entire wall slides open to reveal- “What the  _ fuck _ is that?” Elise demands.

“A mech,” Solas replies, his face grim. “More specifically, a DRAGON model mech.”

“How do you  _ know _ -” Elise yelps and ducks as the mech fires. There’s a flash of blue, and the tapestries behind her catch fire. “Fuck!”

“Keep it occupied!” Solas orders. “I will try and disable it.”

“Are you serious?!” she screeches, peeking over the table she’s using as cover, and firing at the mech. “You want me to tackle this on my own??!”

“Yes!” he shouts back. 

“I don’t think I have enough ammo to take it down!”

“Aim strategically! I must get to the console!” Elise watches him crouch-walk, making sure to stay behind cover, and then Solas barrel-rolls across a gap to get to the wall from where the mech emerged.

“Maker’s balls, hurry the fuck up, will you?!!” she fires at the mech, swearing under her breath as the bullet only dents the steel plate armor.

“I will, if you stop distracting me!”

Elise is kept on her toes, take refuge behind the limited cover the furniture offers. The ironbark is resistant to the mech’s flame breath attack, but even so, it’s a tough fight. The mech is armed with weapons she isn’t familiar with. The one she hates the most emits what she guesses to be an energy pulse; it sets every last nerve she has screaming, floods her body with a fiery pain that disables her for nearly a minute before she can recover.

“Are you done??!” she yells across the room, aiming at the mech’s gleaming red eyes. “It’s got me pinned!”

“Almost!” is his reply. Elise swears, and dives out of the way of a volley of gunfire from the mech’s submachine gun, but she’s not fast enough. A bullet grazes the side of her calf, and even through the flood of adrenaline in her veins she can feel the pain.

“Solas, I’m hit!” she alerts him, then takes a moment to examine the wound. It seems to be superficial, thank the Maker, but it’s still bleeding quite a bit, and she doesn’t have the time to bandage it up. “Solas, fucking please tell me you’re done!!”

No reply, but the mech starts to crackle and hiss. She peers around the console cautiously, watches as sparks begin to fly out of the mech’s joins. There’s a loud whirring sound, some clanking and rattling, and then the red light in the eyes flickers, dulls, and then finally,  _ finally _ , fades to black.

Before she can celebrate, she’s startled by the sudden appearance of her companion by her side. “You said you were hit?” he asks, already pulling out a first aid kit from his pack. “Where?”

“You did it!” she exults as he wipes down the injury with antiseptic and begins to bandage her wound. “How did you know what to do?”

“I’ve… read… about such things,” he remarks casually. “It was constructed by the ancient elves. No doubt Corypheus repurposed it to his benefit.”

“Huh.” She takes his proffered hand and uses it to get to her feet. Gingerly, she tests out her leg. There’s still a dull throb of pain, but she can ignore it- and more importantly, the injury won’t impede her mission. “Right,” she exhales. “Let’s get to work, shall we?”

Solas quickly moves towards the console, and begins typing on the holo-keyboard. She’s taken aback when she finds that it’s elven - and not the dalish kind, either. This is ancient elven, archaic and obsolete. She can just barely understand some of it -  _ search _ and  _ orb _ and  _ current location _ , but he’s clearly very familiar with the programming language as well the interface.

How?

Frowning, she makes an effort to set aside her doubts, She’s got a job to do. “Have you found the orb? Is it here?”

“It should be,” Solas murmurs, not looking up from the screen. “It’s being decrypted as we speak, which means it is nearby.”

“We need to find it,” she heads over to a nearby wall cabinet. It’s locked, but she barely tugs at the handle when the whole door comes crashing down. There’s nothing in there other than some moldy clothes. “The sooner we do, the better. We can then try to locate the Inquisitor.”

“The Commander will undoubtedly rescue her,” the elven hacker mutters distractedly. He pulls out a silver pen from the pocket of his shirt; the light glints and reflects off it…  _ wait a moment _ . She’s seen that pen before, hasn’t she?

Wasn’t it the one Cullen has in his office?

She watches, one hand on the butt of her gun, as he unscrews one end, and pulls out a wire which he then connects to the console. He takes off his beret, places it to the side, still so focused on working that he’s barely paying any attention to her.

There’s a series of beeps, before the screens flicker to life once more.  _ Orb Of Fen’harel: 88% decrypted _ , it now says.

“Fen’harel?” Elise cocks her head, narrows her eyes as she stares at the screen. “That’s- that’s elven for  _ dread wolf _ , isn’t it?”

“I believe so, yes,” she hasn’t missed the way Solas tenses, ever so slightly, at her query.

There’s something off. Every instinct is screaming at her, telling her she isn’t seeing something that she should be. Elise finds herself examining Solas, even though she’s not really sure  _ why _ . She watches as he curses beneath his breath, as he bends to glance under the console, and as he does, something falls out from under his shirt.

It’s a necklace.

With a pendant.

It’s… a jawbone. A  _ wolf’s _ jaw.

What was that Solas had once said?  _ They are intelligent, practical creatures that small-minded fools think of as terrible beasts. _

It falls into place, then, the last piece of the puzzle. How he knows so much about an artifact that’s considered mythical. How he knows about the Orb’s capabilities and mechanics. 

How he’s so knowledgeable about the history of Elvhenan, when there’s so little material available on the subject.

It… shouldn’t be possible, but… it makes  _ so much sense _ .

“Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly. A wall panel slides open, revealing a safe. She watches numbly as he strides towards it, opening it with ease, and pulls out a data chip from a card reader. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, examining it in the light.

_ Maker’s balls. _

“Your pendant.” Elise can’t seem to stop the tremble in her hands as she raises the pistol, her other hand fiddling with her earpiece. “You’re the leak.” Her finger’s on the trigger, but she’s loathe to squeeze it. “You’re the Dread Wolf.”

Solas raises his head sharply. His face is blank, but something swirls turbulently in the depths of his eyes when he spots the gun in her hand.

“Give me the orb, Solas.” She moves closer to him, keeping a safe, cautious distance, and holds out a hand. “Or should I call you  _ Fen’harel _ .”

He closes his fist around it. “Well done.” He looks so damn  _ proud, _ the way he tilts his head and smiles at her. “Though I was Solas first.”

“Give me the orb.” She impatiently jerks her waiting hand.

“Put the gun down, Elise.”

She inhales sharply when he uses her name. “How did you-” The answer comes to her. “You had Cullen’s apartment bugged.” She thinks of the silver pen on the desk of Cullen’s office, the one in his apartment that she’d taken notes with on so many occasions. “You asshole.”

He gives her a lop-sided smile. “You were cautious, and took precautions. The Commander did not do the same.”

“You infiltrated the Inquisition’s servers,” his smile is throwing her off. Why is he smiling? Why isn’t he attacking her, why isn’t he attempting to flee? “You already know everything I know, and more.” She doesn’t understand, though. “Why did you save me?” it comes out in barely a whisper.

Solas’ face softens. “You kept me safe. It was only right that I return the favor.”

She gives a bitter laugh. “I risked my life to protect the traitor. Oh, you must’ve laughed at that.”

He looks- sad, at that. “I am not the traitor you believe me to be.”

“No?” Elise tightens her grip on the gun, holding it so hard her fingers ache. “The Orb is yours, right? So why join the Inquisition? Why infiltrate it yourself, and not send someone else? Why help us, then betray the Inquisitor at the last moment?” She shakes her head.  _ Get the Orb, Elise! The questions can come later! _ “Give me the orb, Solas.”

“I can’t do that.”

“I  _ will _ shoot you,” she warns. “Don’t test me.”

Again, that small, enigmatic smile as he holds his hand open, revealing the tiny chip in his palm. She reaches for it, slowly, carefully-

Quick as a snake, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and twists, using the momentum of the motion to pull her arm behind her back. She grunts in pain, tries to pull herself free, but his grip is strong. In a matter of seconds, he has her pistol in his hand, the muzzle digging into her lower back.

“I’m sorry,” and he sounds rueful. “I was hoping it would not come to this.”

She struggles, only to have him tighten his hold on her. He’s got her legs pinned between his, so she can’t even go for his instep. If it wasn’t for the damn gun, she could’ve elbowed him in the solar plexus, but- “Now what?” she spits out. “Are you going to kill me?”

She hears him sigh. “I only want the Orb, Elise. I have no wish to hurt you.”

“How did Corypheus end up with the Orb, if it’s yours?”

She feels him shift, feels him take both of her arms in his. The pistol is still pressed against her, so she makes no move to fight, as much as she’d like to. She can hear some shuffling, something hard and plastic being wrapped around her wrists, then a soft  _ zwip  _ and her hands are bound. If she had to guess, he’s used zip ties to secure her. It’s what she would’ve done, anyway. Solas uses a second cable tie around her wrists, then another to leash together her elbows. She’s got to hand it to him, she thinks begrudgingly to herself, he’s nothing if not meticulous. 

Once he’s certain she’s going to be no threat to him, he answers her question.“I was-” he breaks off,  _ hmms _ consideringly, all the while appraising her. “The situation I found myself in, at the time- I lacked the infrastructure, and the tools necessary to decrypt my Orb. I let the Orb fall into Corypheus’ hands, knowing he would decrypt it- but before I could retrieve it from him, the Conclave- well. You know what happened.”

“So that’s why you joined the Inquisition,” realization dawns on her. “They were your best chance of getting it back.”

"Indeed. Though I also wished to assist. The Orb in the hands of a delusional madman was not a good thing, and I did not wish Corypheus to bring about even more wanton destruction than he already had.”

“What do you intend to do with the Orb?” Elise eyes widen fractionally. “It’s for that- that organization you were talking about, wasn’t it?”

“I intend to use it to benefit the elves,” he takes a step towards her, and she unconsciously takes one back. “I consider it a worthy cause, and- and I suspect you feel the same way.”

“I think helping the elves is a good thing, yes. But I can’t imagine why you would need the Orb for that,” she tries to probe. “It’s a weapon of mass destruction, Solas. Why would you need something like it?”

He only smiles enigmatically at her attempt. “A clever attempt at getting information, but I will not divulge my plans. Not when I am uncertain of where your loyalties lie.”

She doesn’t know what he means by that, so she switches tactics. “You didn’t expect me to put the pieces together, did you?”

He rests a hip against the console, blocking her path to the door. The muzzle of the gun is still pointed at her. Either way, she’s not going to try to escape - she can’t, not without the Orb. “I suspected you would, actually. Just not quite so soon.”

“You thought I’d figure it out after you retrieved the Orb and left the Inquisition,” she narrows her eyes, “but if you knew I’d figure out who you were, why didn’t you just-” her mind reels as a realization comes to her. “You knew I’d eventually figure out who you were,” she says slowly. “And you thought that when I did, you could approach me. You were hoping to recruit me to your organization, weren’t you?”

“Clever,” he murmurs, that proud quirk to his lips. “Indeed. I will make that offer now, Elise. You’ve wanted a chance to help before, have you not? An opportunity to help. To make a difference.” His gaze turns sharp, piercing, and she can see why he’s named after a wild creature. “You know very well the plight of my people, Elise. They are your people too.” He circles her, and she stumbles in her attempt to keep facing him. “You are an intelligent woman. Skilled, and talented.” He keeps circling her, his eyes never leaving hers. “But you have been consistently underappreciated. Always undervalued. You had to cast aside what makes you elven in order to afford opportunities that would have otherwise been denied to you. Did it not burn, to take on the name of a human? Did it not chafe, to know that you are only accepted because the tips of your ears are not pointed?” He stops moving, and for a moment she’s worried she’s going to be dizzy. “You wanted to change the world, did you not? I offer you a chance to do so. You could join me, Elise. Help me secure a better future for our people.”

She raises her brows, surprised, then frowns. “Are you going to kill me if I say no?”

“As I mentioned before, I have no intentions to do you any harm. You are perfectly free to decline.”

“I’m hardly  _ free _ ,” she complains, flashing her bound wrists at him.

He sighs. “You know what I mean.”

She gnaws on her lip as she debates what to do. There’s no point in keeping Solas occupied; it looks like there’s no one coming for her. She’s at his mercy, literally, and it makes her uneasy. Elise doesn’t know if she can trust his promise of  _ no retribution _ . “What do your plans mean for non-elves?” she asks. “Or even half-elves?”

“You have elven blood in you,” he’s quick to reassure her. “You will benefit, I assure you.”

“And non-elves?”

Infuriatingly, he remains silent. 

“ _ Answer me _ , dammit!”

“There will be… a cost.”

“What cost?” She’s concerned when he looks away from her. “What cost, Solas?”

“I think I have your answer, Elise.” He gives her a small, regretful smile. “I will miss you.”

“You don’t have to do this, Solas. There are other ways-” Distantly, she thinks she can hear footsteps, but- but she can’t be sure. “-other ways to help the elves. Are you really going to turn into Corypheus?”

“I am no monster,” he retorts, brows knitted together, lips twisted into a scowl. “I take no pleasure in what I must do.”

“You don’t know if your way is the only way!” Elise tries to look for a way out of what appears to be her certain death, but she can’t find anything. “Solas, please-” she trails off. She doesn’t know if she’s asking for her life, or asking him to rethink his plans. 

“I’m sorry, Elise.”

Before she can ask  _ sorry for what _ , there’s a distinctive squeak that comes with pressure being put on old, straining wood. Solas turns towards the noise. “I know you’re there. You might as well show yourself.”

_ Thump, thump, thump, _ the footsteps echo in the room, and Cullen appears before them, his face thunderous, and his heavy SMG in both hands, aimed directly at Solas.

“Hands in the air, Solas.  **Now** !”

“About damn time, lionheart,” she breathes, shoulders sagging with relief. “I thought you’d maybe turned your comm. unit off-”

“No, I heard everything that the good Mr. Rhenalfe had to say,” Cullen is grim, his gaze locked on where Solas is.

_ Rhenalfe _ ? Elise starts to giggle. “Oh, shit.” It’s been right in front of their faces the entire fucking time. How had she not seen it? Her giggles turn slightly hysterical. “ _ Rhenalfe  _ is an anagram of Fen’harel!” 

She doesn’t know how Solas manages it, but one moment she’s laughing at how blind she’s been, and the next her back is pressed up against Solas’ chest, and there’s a gun digging into her ribs.

“Commander.” Solas is calm and composed. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that the elf has planned for this. But he can’t have; she’d made sure that his back was turned to her when she’d adjusted the frequency on her comm. unit to Cullen’s. Even so, it’s nothing short of miraculous that Cullen did overhear the conversation.There’s no way Solas could have foreseen this. “I’m going to have to ask you to drop your weapon, please.”

“Let her go, Solas,” Cullen growls. 

“Drop your weapon, Commander.”

This was going nowhere. If Cullen discards his weapon, there’s no reason for Solas to not shoot him. And Solas won’t relinquish his weapon for- well, obvious reasons.Cullen can’t do anything to disarm or disable Solas, not while she acts as his shield. If Cullen wants to get to Solas, he’s going to have to go through her, and there are only so many places he can target that will be effective.

Solas has the Orb, and he mustn’t be allowed to leave with it. It’s too dangerous. There’s little choice, other than-

“Cullen.” She clears her throat, squares her shoulders as best as she can. “Take the shot.”

“ _ What _ ?” Despite the incredulous disbelief in his voice, Cullen’s focus is still on Solas. “If I do, I’ll hit you!”

“He’s got the Orb, Cullen! We can’t let him leave with it. Take the damn shot, Commander, you know there’s no other way!”

Cullen hesitates, though she can see his finger squeeze the trigger just a fraction.

“To ask the man who is in love with you to injure, perhaps even kill you, is dangerous, Elise. You damn him either way.” Solas’ statement is pitched low, meant for her ears only. “Trust me on this.” She feels Solas drag the gun low, down her back, over her ass, till the muzzle is pressed against her thigh. “This will hurt, I’m afraid.”

Elise instantly knows what he plans, tries to warn the Commander. “Cul-” it turns into a shriek when Solas presses the trigger, and a burst of pain, intense and white-hot, causes her leg to give way. She’s only upright because Solas is holding her, and she hates it. Cullen’s lowered his gun, his face twisted into a mask of agonized indecision, his gaze examining her face to gauge the severity of her injury. “I thought you said you wouldn’t hurt me!” she cries. “You lying fuck!”

“I’m sorry,” she hears Solas whisper to her before he fires again, not just reopening but deepening the wound on her calf. He pushes her in Cullen’s direction, and her hands flail in a futile attempt to regain her balance as she barrels into the Commander, unable to stop herself. Cullen’s caught off guard, and he falls backwards onto the ground. Elise lands atop him, and immediately his arms wrap around her form. She cranes her neck, watching helplessly as the ancient elf slips out of the room.

“Fuck!” she exclaims furiously, using her arms to push herself into a sitting position. “Dammit all to the fucking Void. He got away. He has the Orb, and he got away!”

Cullen’s talking into his radio, issuing orders in a terse, clipped tone. “I’ve asked my men out on the surface to keep an eye out for Solas,” he states grimly as his hands examine her wounds. “We’ll get him, don’t worry. Right now, I’m more concerned about you. How do you feel?”

Her leg feels both hot and numb, and she’s aware she’s losing blood at a rate that’s… well, not alarming, but certainly cause for concern. “It hurts like hell. I don’t think I can walk out of here, Cullen.”

“Good thing you’re not alone, then.” He grins at her, that scar on his lip lifting in that rakish way she adores. And all of a sudden, things don’t seem that bad. Cullen’s here, by her side, and she’s in his arms, staring into those warm whiskey brown eyes; she’s alive, and so is the man she loves, and she just  _ knows _ it’s all going to be okay-

“That’s very true,” she concurs, giving him a soft peck on the cheek. 

“And if it’s alright with you, I’d rather like to keep it that way,” he deftly cuts open her trousers to get to her wounds.

“Why, Commander, so eager to get my pants off?” she teases, wincing as his fingers gently examine the damage.

He shakes his head, but she can see the smile he’s sporting. “You’re incorrigible.” He ties a tourniquet around the top of her thigh. 

“You love it.”

“I love  _ you _ ,” he corrects with a smirk.

“There’s a difference?” she laughs. 

He secures the edge of her bandage, tucking in the tail, then makes sure she isn’t injured anywhere else. “I suppose not.” Cullen helps her to her feet, one hand around her waist. 

She takes a step, then another, then collapses again. “Dammit.”

“I have you, darling.” Without hesitation, he hoists her up in a fireman’s carry.

The squeal she lets out is undignified, to say the least. “Cullen!”

“I told you I’m always going to be there for you,” he shifts, adjusts his hold on her. She can feel the way his shoulder muscles flex, has a fantastic view of his ass from where she is. It’s incredibly sexy, as is the way he’s carrying her so effortlessly.

“Andraste’s tits. I love you, Cullen.”

He laughs. It’s a carefree, joyous sound, and it warms the very core of her. “I love you, my darling.”


	21. Après la fin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue.

“You look better,” Leliana offers Elise a warm smile. The spymaster’s demeanor has changed - imperceptibly, but noticeable enough to Elise. She seems freer, less cold and more open. “You look better.”

“I’m just a bit bruised up, nothing serious,” Elise returns the greeting. “I’ve had worse, but Cullen got it into his head that I needed to spend a few nights under Dr. Fiona’s care. You know how stubborn he can be sometimes.”

“I suppose the fact that you were shot multiple times wasn’t the reason for his concern,” Leliana quirks a brow.

“Yeah, well.” she frowns. “That fucker said he wasn’t going to hurt me.”

Leliana’s face turns thunderous. “I cannot believe Solas was the traitor. How did you figure it out?”

“Too many small things that added up - too late, unfortunately,” she sighs. “His knowledge about the Orb, for a start. And then all his talk about Arlathan… I’ve taken courses in Elven History and- some of the things he spoke about, I’d never heard of. He always brushed it off as ‘recent discoveries’ and I let it slide, ‘cause it’s not like I’ve been keeping up with the subject, you know? Then, of course, his damned name.  _ Rhenalfe _ . And that wolf jawbone he wears around his neck. The signs were all there, I just… I didn’t look as hard as I should have.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Leliana. I should’ve done better-”

“He had us both fooled,” Leliana reaches out and pats Elise on the shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. He is intelligent, dangerously so.” She turns, picks up a beige paper folder from the desk. “I’ve read your report, but is there anything you can add to that? Anything you might have missed?”

Elise scrunches up her nose and forehead as she thinks. She’s not going to tell Leliana about the offer Solas made her - the Nightingale, for all her new-found softness, would still try and talk her into taking it up, and she’s not really feeling it. She’s discussed the matter with Cullen, and they’ve both agreed to keep that bit of information from the spymaster - for the immediate future, at least. “Let’s see- okay, so, he said he didn’t have the tech to decrypt the Orb, but- but when we went to recover it, it hadn’t been fully decrypted. So… between then and now, he must’ve found a way to decrypt it, but I don’t know how. That might be something worth looking into.” She rubs her forehead, runs a hand through her hair. “Leliana, I- I wish I could’ve recovered the Orb. I- I tried, but-”

Leliana smiles then, bright and wide with a lot of her teeth showing. “Oh, did I not tell you?” she’s practically gloating. “We recovered the Orb.”

“What?! How? Where??!”

“In the Gauntlet. I had Agents Harding and Charter sweep the area after you left, and they discovered the Orb on the tunnel floor. Solas must have accidentally dropped it while making his escape.”

Elise doubts it. Solas has always been so careful, this kind of error doesn’t seem like one he’d make. Still, she’d seen for herself just how small that data chip was. It  _ could _ be possible… because why would he drop it deliberately? It doesn’t make sense.

Then again, there’s a great deal about that damned elf that doesn’t make sense.

“That’s fantastic.” Elise shifts, dropping herself into a padded chair and resting her crutches on the floor next to her. “What do you plan to do with it?”

“Nothing. It has been destroyed.” At Elise’s wide-eyed look of surprise, the spymaster continues, “It is dangerous. I could have kept it, yes, but-” Leliana trails off, and she understands. The old, hardened Leliana would have kept it. This new one is… softer. Elise likes her better for it. “Besides, now Solas cannot use it at all. Whatever his plans, we will have time to uncover them.”

“True enough,” she nods. “I know he intends to aid the elves, but without the Orb, it will be interesting to see what his next move will be.”

“You should be careful,” the spymaster moves behind her desk and seats herself. She has a somber look on her face. “You know who he is. And out of everyone in the Inquisition, you are possibly the one who knows him the best. It’s likely he sees you as a threat.”

Elise thinks of Solas’ offer. How he’d spared her life in the Gauntlet, spared her from having to force Cullen’s hand. It’s certainly possible his views on her have changed - or could change in the future - but deep down, Elise knows the two of them share a bond of mutual respect. Perhaps Solas will target her in the future, but she feels confident enough that he will give her some kind of warning before he does. “Perhaps,” she says, in response to Leliana’s raised brow. “But I’ll deal with that when it comes.”

“You should join us,” Leliana steeples her fingers together. At her quizzical look, the spymaster adds, “Oh, not the Inquisition, though it will remain for a while. I intend to assemble a task force to deal with Solas. You would be a great help, Elise.”

She picks up her crutches, lets out a little grunt as she pulls herself up. “Thank you, but no. I think I’ve had more than enough excitement for a while, Leliana. I just want to lead a normal life for once.”

There’s a sound by the door. Elise turns to find Cullen standing there, leaning against the door frame. He’s dressed in jeans and a worn leather jacket, and he’s freshly shaved. When he catches her eyes, he gives her a small smile, the scar on his lip making him look absolutely rakish. She grins, gives him a quick wink, and starts to move towards him. Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she pulls it out to read the message. There’s no sender ID - no number, no name, and that raises her suspicions.  _ I hope you have recovered from your injuries. Should you change your mind, my offer still stands. I’m certain we will meet again, Elise. Until then… I hope you live well. _

“That fucker,” she mutters to herself, but it’s without heat.

Behind her, Leliana laughs, amused and indulgent. “A normal life, is it? I don’t think that will last very long - I’ll be here when you’re ready for more.” Elise is still focused on Cullen’s face as she gives Leliana the finger over her shoulder, but it only serves to make the spymaster laugh louder.

Cullen helps her out onto the hallway, and shuts the door behind them. “So,” he smirks, stepping closer, reaching out and tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ears, his fingers caressing her jaw. “You want normal, huh? Somehow I doubt you even know the meaning of the word.”

She flashes him a bright, cheeky smile, raises a hand and hooks it around his neck. Cullen places both his arms on her waist to steady her; neither give any attention to the clatter her crutches make as they fall to the ground. “Well, I was rather hoping you’d teach me,” she murmurs, before pulling him down to kiss him. 

When they break away, Cullen’s fingers are digging into her skin, and she’s more than a little breathless. “I look forward to it,” he growls, and kisses her again, swallowing the sarcastic quip at the tip of her tongue.

Through the haze of arousal that’s already building up, Elise thinks to herself that a life with this man is all the excitement she needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we've come to the end! Thank you for reading Elise's story :)

**Author's Note:**

> My knowledge of tech could quite literally fill a thimble. I'm so sorry if I get stuff wrong.


End file.
